PRELUDE TO EL LOBO DEL MAR

[Welsh Wench]

Rhiannon and Rhys stood at the edge of the woods that led up to Castlemaine.
He gently took her hand.
"I hate the thought of you in that cold manor, darling."
She squeezed his hand and looked into his eyes.
"I'll be fine. I know you have to go back to Cardiff by the end of the week. And I have to play the dutiful wife."
He kissed her gently.
"I'll be back before the end of the month. I'm only sailing as far as Calais. I'll leave you a note on the table in that old caretaker's cottage when I am back."
She laid her head on his chest.
"I love you, Rhys."
"As I do you."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Madoc!"
He put his papers down. "So...no welcome from my wife? I came back and you weren't here."
"When did you get back?"
"Late last night. The servants told me you were staying at your sister's to help with the children when she was ill? Does she not have a governess?"
Rhiannon hung up her cloak.
"She does but Dylan was asking for me and since you were away, I saw no harm in it."
"And you were gone a whole week?"
"Thereabout. But enough of me. Act for the Settlement of Ireland. But this is way over your head, Rhiannon. You wouldn't understand it."
She felt her face turn hot and she kept her retort to herself.
"Well, then, what good am I then if you can't discuss things with me?"
"Your place is to plan the dinner party for Wednesday."
"Wednesday? Madoc, another one? I'm a bit tired of this."
"And that is one thing a wife is good for. I think the brown dress with the ecru lace on the collar and cuffs would be best."

Madoc returned to the papers he was reading.
"This is interesting. Cromwell passed the Act of Adultery. I didn't think that would ever happen."
Rhiannon felt the blood leave her face. "Wh-what act is that?"
He rustled his papers and read, "Adultery shall be adjudged Felony.
And be it further Enacted by the authority aforesaid, That in case any married woman shall from and after the Four and twentieth day of June aforesaid, be carnally known by any man (other them her Husband) (except in Case of Ravishment) and of such offence or offences shall be convicted as aforesaid by confession or otherwise, every such Offence and Offences shall be and is hereby adjudged Felony: and every person, as well the man as the woman, offending therein, and confessing the same, or being thereof convicted by verdict upon Indictment or Presentment as aforesaid, shall suffer death as in case of Felony, without benefit of Clergy."

He put it aside. "Well, my dear, that should keep many a wife from leaving her husband's bed for another, wouldn't you agree?"

Rhiannon laid her forehead against the window and looked out.
"Yes, Madoc. I should think so."
But her mind took her back to a seaside town.
And to a man with eyes the colour of the sea.

[Welsh Wench]

The night passed quickly by. Madoc spent most of the night chatting with the other members of the upper class about his horse breeding and what changes Cromwell was implementing in the Commonwealth.

Rhiannon occupied her time dancing with guest after guest and listening to the latest gossip among the ladies. It was all she could do to keep her face from registering the boredom she felt. There were too many Lord West---- and ----cliffes to suit her.  All the while she was wishing Rhys was there. That it was Rhys she was dancing with.  As the guests were leaving, Rhiannon and Madoc stood by the door as they exchanged good nights and final compliments on the portrait.
The door finally closed on the last guest by midnight.

"I'll be up in a few minutes, Rhiannon."
"Madoc, I am really tired---"
"I said a few minutes."
She sighed. "As you wish."

Madoc stood before the portrait staring at it. The merriment in Rhiannon's eyes haunted him. Something....something there.
Her smile seemed to mock him. He poured a glass of brandy all the while searching her face for something.
He drank the brandy in one gulp and turning he hurled the glass against the fireplace.
Because right now what he wanted were answers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The door opened forcefully, slamming against the wall. Rhiannon turned with a start.
"My goodness, Madoc! You startled me!"
She stood before him in her underpinnings, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his penetrating gaze.
He crossed the room in three strides and grabbed her by the wrist.
"What was the meaning of that?"
She flinched but met his gaze. Wrenching her wrist from him, she said coldly, "I have no idea what you are talking about. I am tired and I want to--"
"Oh, no? The portrait shows it very clearly. Gerard DuPre painted you as he saw you. As a woman in love. And through the eyes of a man in love. DuPre is in love with you."
"That's not true!"
"DON'T LIE!" He raised his hand and struck her hard across the face. Rhiannon fell against the wall. He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to her feet. She let out a scream.
The door burst open and Rhoslyn stood there with her mouth open, looking from Madoc to Rhiannon.
"GET OUT!" Madoc yelled.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rhosyn cautiously opened the door.
"Madame? Lady Castlemaine?"
In the corner, in the dark sat Rhiannon. She had propped herself up against the wall.
"Oh sweet Lord, Madame!"
"He--help me up, Rhoslyn."
She gently put her arm around Rhiannon's waist as she braced herself against the wall to stand. Her leg started to buckle but she grabbed the bedpost in time to keep from falling. Her clothing was tattered.
"Just--just get me to the bed, Rhoslyn."
Gently her maid led her to the bed and helped her put her legs up.
"I'm getting you a cold cloth, Milady."
Rhiannon laid there with her arm across her face, too bruised to even cry.
Rhoslyn tenderly wiped her face, the cloth showing blood where she had wiped her lip.
"Did I ever--ever tell you how much I like you, Rhoslyn?"
Rhoslyn understood what Rhiannon was doing. She was talking to keep herself conscious.
"Let me help you out of these rags, Milady."
She got a clean chemise and helped Rhiannon as one would a child taking off a garment. She gasped.
Rhiannon's body was covered with bruises. Some were already turning purple.
"Milady...."
"The riding crop, Rhoslyn. It---it seems Lord Castlemaine wanted to try it out and I was conven...convenient."
Rhoslyn's eyes welled up with tears as she brushed Rhiannon's hair from her face.
Rhiannon moaned. "I seem to have a bit of swelling on the side of my face, Rhoslyn."
The maid said, "Do you expect Lord Castlemaine back?"
She shook her head slightly. "I think he went somewhere to cool off."
A slight smile tried to grace her face. "After--after all, he really put himself into it."
Rhiannon then covered her face with her hands as sobs wracked her body.

"Why, Rhoslyn...why? Was he always like this?"
"More or less, dear. More so after....she died. Almost as if he was mad that she dared to die on him. Wiithout his permisson."
"How--how did she die?"
"She fell down the stairs."
"How fortunate for her."
Rhoslyn got some more cloths and washed Rhiannon's bruises.
"At least he didn't break the skin. But he--he owes me a new chemise."

And then the shock wore off and reality set in. Rhiannon's tears began anew. Rhoslyn gathered her in her arms and rocked her as a mother would a child.
"Will...will this always be my life, Rhoslyn? Living in fear and waiting for the next beating?"
Rhoslyn stroked her hair. "I don't know, Milady. All I know is that what you reap, you sow. And as my mother used to say, 'things have a way of working out.' "
Rhiannon said softly, "I'm so tired, Rhoslyn. Can you extinguish the candle?"
"Aye, Milady."
"And Rhoslyn?"
"Yes, Madame?"
"Can---can you stay with me till I fall asleep?" she said in a small voice.
Her mouth set in a firm line.
"Aye, Milady. I certainly shall. I'll stay all night."

Rhiannon gave Rhoslyn's hand a squeeze and then moaned. "I guess it wasn't a good idea to try to defend myself. My hands....."
And with that, Rhiannon drifted into a deep sleep.
Rhoslyn covered her up with a coverlet and whispered, "Aye, little one. I'll stay the night. Just to make sure no more harm comes to you."

[Welsh Wench]

The door creaked open. Rhys was waiting in the caretaker's cottage that they had been using for clandestine meetings and stolen moments.
A candle was burning down and a bottle of wine was open.
He turned and saw Rhiannon standing in the shadows.
"I was beginning to wonder if you would make it. I was getting worried about you."
Rhiannon kept the cloak hood up around her face and kept herself turned to the door.
Quietly she spoke, "I can't stay. I just came to tell you I won't be able to come here for a few weeks."
He crossed over to her, putting his hand gently on her arm. Her face was turned away.
"Rhiannon? Rhiannon, look at me."
She turned into the half-light.
"I need to go, Rhys."
Gently he pushed her cloak hood down.
"Oh my God."

Rhiannon's lip was still cut and swollen.  Her left cheek had a black and blue mark and a welt .
She bowed her head in shame as a tear trickled down her cheek.
"The portrait was unveiled last night."

Rhys could feel blind rage building up.
"And so he expressed his opinion of it this way?"
She nodded wordlessly.
He gently touched her cheek said tersely, "Is this all?"
She shook her head.
"Where?"
"All--all over. His riding crop."
Rhys could feel his heart break for her. He enfolded her in his arms and drew her head gently to his chest.
She moaned softly.
"I--I just hurt all over. I even hurt too much to cry. I don't want you to see the rest of it. I'll heal. Rhoslyn brought me some ointments for it. And I rest when I can."
"Oh, my darling. I am so sorry."
"He accused me of being in love with Monsieur Gerard. Fortunately for him, he was in Italy. Otherwise, I am afraid Madoc would call him out and there would be a scandal. As it is, I seem to have paid the price."
He held her gently.

"Rhys, I'm afraid. I talked to Rhoslyn a bit and I found out his first wife fell down the stairs and broke her neck. I am wondering now....was it really an accident? I'm so very afraid of him. He left for London this morning. I--I didn't want you to see me this way."
He pulled away and looked at her with a hardened look in his eyes.
"Then in two days we are out of Beaumaris. We will sail for Barbados at first light on Thursday. Can you be ready?"
She nodded.
"I won't take anything but Muir. I know he will be only too happy to get out of that barn and into a life of sunshine."
"I'll be by around six o'clock to help you pack. The I'll have Dolan come with a carriage. Pack as many clothes as you can. No sense leaving them behind. And your jewelry. You earned it."
"I'll tell the help that I am going to bed early because I decided to join Madoc in London. That way they won't be wondering where I am. And we will have a two week head start on Madoc."
"That bastard. I would love to stay and finish him off."
She gently put her finger to his lips.
"Just get me away from here. I don't care where we are as long as it isn't in England or Wales. Paris...Rome...Barbados...the Colonies. Anywhere that Madoc's connections can't reach us."
"I'll get in touch with my friend. He offered to help and guarantees or safety.  We can go anywhere in this world, change our identites. And leave all this behind us till the coast is clear."
She laid her head on his chest and he stroked her hair away from her face.
"Thursday. After Thursday, I'll be free of all this. Promise me it will work out, Rhys. It just has to."
"It will, love. Or else it will be the last thing we ever do."

[Welsh Wench]

Thursday night.....

"Now where did it go?"
Rhiannon startled at the sound at her window.
There it went again. She cautiously opened the casement window and looked below.
"Hold your fire!" she said in a whisper.
Rhys stood there with a few pebbles in his hand. "I had to get your attention someway. I saw you through the window so I waited till you were near it."
"Can you make it up the trellis?"
"Darling, to rescue you I would fight St. George's dragon."
He deftly got a foothold on the trellis and clinging between the vines and the wood, he managed to make it up to the window. With his hands on the ledge, he hoisted himself up and threw his leg over the sill.
"Are you packed?"
"Almost. I have a few duffel bags and am taking all the clothes that are practical."
He held up a dress that was thrown on the bed.
"The yellow one?"
Her lips drew into a tight line as she remembered her one act of defiance in getting married in that dress.
"No."
"Why not? It was the dress you wore that first time we made----"
"NO!"
She picked it up and threw it into the flames in the fireplace.
"I'll never wear yellow again."
Rhys knew better than to ask questions to which he didn't want to know the answers to.

As she stared at the dress scorching and then being consumed, she started trembling.
"Just get me out of here, Rhys. Now."
"You have everything you want?"
She nodded. "All I need is to get Muir. He's in the stables and we can get him on our way out."
"Dolan will be at the edge of the woods at eight o'clock with a carriage and we can board tonight and sail at first break of dawn. The tide will be in."
"All I need is to change out of this dress and into some traveling clothes. I have my riding breeches over there."
"Then change and let's get out of here."

Rhiannon quickly dropped her dress, standing before her armoire in her chemise and grabbing a shirt. Suddenly the door opened slowly.
Her worst nightmare had come true.
Madoc stood there in the doorway.
And he was weaponed.

[Welsh Wench]

Rhiannon's voice caught in her throat as she whispered, 'Dear God."
Rhys turned at the shaft of light and saw Lord Castlemaine framed in the doorway.
"So it is true."
"Madoc....." her voice was scarcely above a whisper.
"YOU!" Madoc yelled.  "I thought all this time it was HIM. The Frenchman. But she was cuckolding me with you---a common pirate."
Rhys moved between Rhiannon and Madoc.
"And what sort of man beats his wife with a riding crop?"
"One whose wife needs to learn obedience. And now it turns out I beat her for the right reasons but for the wrong man. Well, that can be remedied."
He turned to Rhiannon. "Sir Winston Radcliffe told me he saw a woman who was my wife's double in Cardiff. I wanted to cut his tongue out for lying but I had to know for myself. All that time you and this cur were trysting in that cottage, you had no idea you were being followed, did you?"
Rhiannon stood there, not knowing what to do and not daring to look at Rhys. Not while Madoc was brandishing his rapier.
"It's not what you think, Madoc...."
"DON'T TAKE ME FOR A FOOL WITH YOUR LIES, RHIANNON! I had Mortimer keep a close eye on you. And he had heard through the window that you were planning your grand escape tonight. So he sent word to me. I have been staying at an inn about a day's journey from here just waiting for the word of your blundering plans."
"Madoc...."
"Remember Cromwell's Act of Adultery, my dear? I am perfectly within my rights to take the law in my own hands."
Rhys spoke up sharply, "Don't be a fool, Castlemaine."
He turned to Rhys and spat, "Stay out of this, you dog. This is between me and my wife. I'll settle with you too. After all, you forget who is the one weaponed here and who is the one who has been betrayed. No court will convict me. Crime of passion and all."

Rhiannon reached out to touch his arm in supplication, begging, "Please, Madoc. PLEASE!"
He threw her hand off, his eyes ablaze with fury.
"Please, Madoc. Please let him live. Don't add murder into it! Please! For me...."
Madoc sneered, "For you? FOR YOU? You think I want the entire shire to know I was cuckolded by the likes of him? A PIRATE? And the very one who has been storing his ill-gotten treasures in the caves on my land?"
Rhys retorted, "As if you didn't know. How will the bluebloods react when the story gets out how you received your percentage of this dirty money?"
"You bastard! You use my land and you treat my wife like a common trollop. Well, that is just what she is. A trollop. A whore. And you can both be together where I am sending you. To hell."
He drew his sword and advanced towards them.

Rhys grabbed Rhiannon and shoved her aside just as Madoc raised his sword. She screamed and the blade moved swift catching Rhys in the side.  A look of astonishment crossed his face before he fell on her.
"And now to finish you off, you whore!" Madoc screamed.
He raised his rapier and advanced towards her. "No court will convict me. You cheating..."
He raised his blade and she rolled quickly off the bed. Her hand fell on what she now knew what she had been looking for when Rhys threw the pebbles against the window.
Her bodice dagger.

With lightning fast reflexes, she threw the dagger. In her adrenaline rushed drive to survive, the aim was true.
It found its mark.
Madoc's heart.
Or would have been if he had one.

Madoc was thrown back against the wall from the sheer force of her pitching. The rapier clattered to the floor. He said not a word but a look of incredulity crossed his face. He slid down the wall, reaching his hand out to Rhiannon. She recoiled in horror.
"Rhi...Rhia....Rhiannon......"
Blood bubbled from his lips as he pitched forward.

[Welsh Wench]

Rhiannon stared as her husband lay there. She heard a moan from the bed and as if swimming underwater and coming to the surface, she saw Rhys laying on the bed.
She ran over to him. He laid there holding his side, his fingers and hand turning red with the blood that was seeping from the wound inflicted on him by Madoc.
"Oh my God, Rhys."
She held him and the blood continued to seep, crimson and staining her hands and saturated her dress.
His breathing was shallow. "Ah, Rhiannon. I always thought I would die at sea. From a battle or maybe even a mutiny. Going down with my ship. Never in my dreams for the crime of being in the arms of a woman."
"Rhys, here. Let me help you sit up. It might not be as bad as it looks..."
He shook his head and whispered, "I know it's fatal, my love."
She felt hot tears trace down her face. "Rhys. Please don't leave me, Rhys. You promised me...you promised you would love me forever."
"I will, my darling....love...love you forever...."
"No, Rhys. NO! I won't have it. You said you would marry me. Together forever. That--that is what you promised me."
His eyes closed, the bedclothes turning red.
She laid her head on his shoulder and cradled his head in her arms. "I won't hear of it, Rhys. I won't let you leave me. You can't. You won't. I won't have it. I--I can't bear it. I can't go on without you."

His breathing grew more labored. "Can't--can't breathe. Not much time. Promise me one thing. Go to---go to Barbados. Get help from.....find him. He will know what to do."
She was sobbing. "You are coming with me. I won't have it any other way.  I love you. Don't leave me, Rhys! DON'T LEAVE ME!"
He drew a breath and touched her face. "I'll always be with you. I love you, Rhiannon....always and for...forever...."
His eyes closed and he went limp.
She cradled his head to her cheek and wept. But there was no response from Rhys.

Rhiannon didn't know how long she laid there holding on to him. Finally she dragged herself out of the bed, emotionally numb. She took cloths and wiped as much blood as she could from her hands and her body. She then took a pitcher of water and filled the basin. The water turned red. Fill and rinse, fill and rinse....there was no stop to the crimson water. She just repeated the actions as if someone else were doing it.
'Got to get out of here....leave....leave....'
She knew the vengefulness of Madoc's sons, particularly Henry who always resented Rhiannon usurping his dead mother's place. If she stayed, there was a more than good chance she would stand trial and swing for killing her husband.
'Go to Barbados...find him...he will know what to do...'
That is what Rhys whispered to her. But who? The captain....what was his name? Fox. That was it. Captain Fox.

As if in a trance she dropped her bloodied chemise and threw it in the fireplace. She dressed quickly in riding clothes. Walking over to the safe, she emptied the contents into a cloth bag. Jewelry and coins.
She shoved any papers and property deeds she could.
She took out the final papers.
It was the marriage contract between her father and Madoc. It was the promise of giving Lord Conaway the woods and meadowland between the two estates when she produced an heir.
'So I was nothing but a broodmare.'
She crumpled the paper and threw it into the flames.
'Take that. I won't be sold like a slave.'
Opening up her armoire, she took anything she could and shoved them into two duffel bags.
Taking her cloak she wrapped it around her shoulders.
Looking at Rhys' body on the bed, she felt the tears slide down her face.
She brushed the hair out of his face and kissed his lips that were still warm.
Softly she whispered, "I know you will always be with me, my love. A love like ours can never die. There is nothing I can do anymore for you. May God have mercy on your soul, my darling."
She touched the sleeve of his shirt.
"I love you, Rhys. Forever. I'll never love anyone again. Not like I love you."

She didn't even bother to look at Madoc.

She tossed the bags out the window and then threw her leg over the sill. She looked down. About twenty feet. She climbed down the trellis as far as she could, the thorns scratching at her and catching at her hair. Finally there was about ten feet left. She closed her eyes and took a leap.
Landing on the ground, she picked up her bags and quietly went down to the stables.
And there was the horse she had taken from the Order of St Bridgid.
A horse named Taliesin.
She wasn't stealing him.
Just borrowed with no intention of returning.
Ever.

She saddled and bridled him. Throwing the bags over the rear of the horse, she then whistled quietly for her wolf-dog Muir. Muir came out from under the hay and jumped on her.
"Hello, Muir. Looks like we are going on another adventure."
She climbed the gate of the stall and jumped on Taliesin's back. She then patted her leg and Muir took a leap. She caught him as he was in midair.
She put him in front of her and their mutual heat warmed each other. Their breaths fogged in the night air.
"Ready, Taliesin?"
She reined him towards the door. As he cleared it, she kicked in with her boots. Hard.
Taliesin reared slightly as if in agreement and cantered forward.
Her hair streamed behind her as she galloped towards the woods.
Anywhere....just away from Castlemaine Manor.

[Welsh Wench]

"It's alright, Muir. Just curl up under my cloak."
The wolf-dog snuggled closer to Rhiannon. Taliesin, the steed she took from the convent, seemed to know that his rider needed to get away as far as she could and quickly.
Rhiannon's breath clouded in the damp, cold Welsh night.
'Have to get away....have to get away....have to....'
"Halt!"
Rhiannon drew the reins up short and Taliesin skidded to a stop, rearing up slightly.
"Wh--who is it?"
A dark cloaked figure came out from behind the trees, his coal black stallion blocking their way.
"Never mind the name," the stranger said. In the moonlight, Rhiannon could see that he was rough trade.
"Wh-wh-what do you want?"
He gave a low chuckle. "Yer valuables, fer one."
Her hand tightened on the saddle bag that contained all the Castlemaine jewels. Her duffel bags with her clothes and the money were thrown across Taliesin's back and tied down securely.
"I-I don't have any money."
"No? Then what is in the bags?"
"Just foodstuff. I--I'm on my way to see my sister. She's about a day's journey."
"And what is a nice girl like you doing riding at night instead of cozied in an inn?"
"It was too crowded so I decided to ride as long as I could and then set up in a cave...or something."
He laughed. "I think I can arrange the 'or something.' Now hop yer pretty self down from the horse and I'll show you how cozy it can be."
"WHAT?"
Taliesin pranced in place and Muir emitted a low growl.
"Ye got a dog there? Just tie him up near the tree, darling. Ye have no money and I haven't seen a woman in a week. I need something out of this."

Rhiannon shakily reached into the pouch and produced two pistols.
"And what will you do if I sh-shoot you?"
He laughed even harder. "Ye can't even hold onto 'em, ye're shaking so hard. Now come on and hand them over before you hurt yourself."
"I--I mean it. I--I'll shoot if I have to."
"No, ye won't. Ye ain't got it in ye. Now, hurry up and I'll show ye some right good lovin' under this here full moon and then--"
BAM!
A sharp yell of pain filled the night as the man clutched his knee.
"B*TCH!" he yelled.
Rhiannon fired another shot wildly and it missed the man's head by inches, sending his hat flying into the air. He dropped to the road and tried to staunch the blood. She pulled back on the hammer and squeezed the trigger but it just clicked. No spark, no fire. She hurled it at the man, bonking him in the forehead with the butt of the pistol.
And then he fell face forward in the road, curiously silent.

Rhiannon wasted no time. She dug her boot heels into Taliesin. The horse reared back and bolted. As he dashed by, he brushed into the robber's horse and spooked him. The robber's horse took off down the road in the opposite direction.

About ten miles down the road, Rhiannon reined Taliesin.  There was a fork in the road and Rhiannon did not know which way to go. Would one lead to a town? Does the other one drive her deeper into the forest?
Would there be more highwaymen?
And did she have any more shot for the pistol? As if she could load it herself...

The horse stopped and Rhiannon looked up at the stars that shining in the indigo night. It was becoming colder. Rhiannon watching her breath frost up, her fingers numb from holding the reins.
She gazed up at the heavens and searched them as if she would find the answer there.
'Mother? Mother?  Pl-please! Please! I need your help!' she begged.  She covered her face with her hands and sobbed. The last year had been a terror for her. Aside from the fact that she was told to leave the convent--the only home she had known for the past eleven years--her father had married her off to an old man. Even though Madoc was an old man of forty-seven, he was lively.
 
She wiped her tears with the corner of the cloak. Muir let out a whimper and licked her face. She hugged him fiercely.
'Where are we to go, Muir? What shall we do?'
She looked up to see her answer off in the distance.
A small stone church with a light in the stained glass window.

[Welsh Wench]

Honour led the horse to the front door of the church and tied him to the rail.
Clutching her cloak tightly to her, she took Muir with her and timidly knocked on the door.
The door was answered by an old priest. He had a full beard and was tall and imperial in his bearing. Yet there was something else in his face.
Compassion.

"What can I do for you, my child?"
"Please, Father, can you hear a confession? Tonight?"
"But, child, you should be home with your family. What drives you out on a night like this? You must be chilled to the bone."
"A confession and absolution are of utmost importance, Father. Would you deny it?"
"Of course not."
"And sanctuary in a church? Where I will come to no harm nor arrest?"
The priest took a deep breath.
"My child, sanctuary and right to asylum was abolished by King James in 1623."
"But can you protect me?"
He said slowly, "I'll do what I can. But it is time for you to tell me what this is about."
"Only in a confession. Otherwise, I leave."

The priest led her to a small parlor where a fire was blazing.
He sat down in a chair and motioned for her to do likewise.
"Would you care for something to drink? Some tea?"
She shivered. "I would prefer something a bit stronger, if you don't mind."
The priest's eyes twinkled.
"I was hoping you would say that. Brandy it is, then."
 
The priest handed her a snifter.
"I made it myself last spring."
"You make strong spirits? Here?"
"Child, I am an herbalist and a healer and a distiller. Many of these ancient recipes were handed down by the Celts and the----" here he looked around--"the Druids."
Rhiannon's eyes went wide.
"Druids?"
The priest laughed, "Surely being Welsh, you know that a lot of the ancient practices had its roots in Druidism."
She took a sip of the blackberry brandy and it warmed her. Muir curled up at her feet, happy to be out of the cold.
The priest looked out at Taliesin, still tethered to the post.
"My child, if you seek---sanctuary--best I take your horse to the stable and let Brother Clement care for him. No need for you to get up, you just warm up. And then we shall talk."
The priest wrapped a wool scarf around his neck and closed the door.

Within fifteen minutes, he reappeared with an armload of firewood.
"Can't have you freezing. Your horse is stabled and being cared for."
He laid more wood on the fire, then sat down and lit his pipe.
"You--you smoke a pipe too?"
He smiled at her. "It calms me down. Now...let's talk. Might I ask your name?"
She hesitated and Muir looked up at her expectantly.
"Rhiannon Cas--Rhiannon Conaway."
"Pleased to meet you, Mistress Conaway.  Why are you in need of a quick confession and absolution? You don't look wounded nor do you look like you are in need of last rites."
She looked down at the floor and said softly, "I committed an unforgivable sin."
"A young lady as yourself? Now, what could be so bad that you feel you cannot be forgiven?"
She looked up at him with pain-filled eyes.
"I killed my husband."

[Welsh Wench]

The priest downed his brandy in one gulp and looked at her. His voice remained calm.
"I see."
"It was an accident, Father. I swear. It was self defense."
Perhaps you had better start at the beginning."
"Is this my confession?"
"It is."

Rhiannon took a deep drink of her brandy and said quietly, "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been over a year since my last confession."
"Over a year?  And to what do you owe the time lapse?"
"I--I was married off to an old man I didn't love! Oh, Father, he was horrible!"
"How did you come to be married off?"
She looked down. "I was sent away in disgrace.  I met a man."
The priest said nothing.
She raised her head and said almost defiantly, "It wasn't like what you think! We were in love! He had to go away to sea--"
"He was a merchant sailor?"
"Not exactly."
"What do you mean, 'not exactly?'"
She said almost inaudibly, "He's a pirate."
The priest nodded. It wasn't unusual for an imaginative and romantic girl to lose her heart to a dashing figure.  She took a deep breath and continued.
"He was supposed to come back for me but he was delayed out of a sense of loyalty to a friend and meanwhile Mother Superior found out about us. The damned--forgive me, Father--the novitiate turned me in. I was sent home. I thought Rhys--that is his name--had deserted me and my father didn't want me around so I had to marry Lo--my husband. But Rhys found me and we made plans for him to spirit me away. But--but then my husband came home. And he ran Rhys through with his saber."
"Rhys--and you..?"
She blurted out, "It is not a sin if you are in love, is it, Father? The sin would be love denied! And the sin was every time my husband touched me. THAT was not love!"
She fought for control of her emotions. The priest could see how fragile she was.
He gently prodded, "And so what happened to the husband?"
She could hardly find her voice. "He raised his saber to run me through also but I was quicker. I hurled my bodice dagger and pinned him against the wall."

Rhiannon burst into tears. The kindly priest took her in his arms and patted her on the back, making soothing sounds.
"My child, forgiveness has been granted. Go and sin no more."
She looked up at him with a tear-stained face.
"I--I'm forgiven?"
"Clearly not a sin you intend on repeating--although we are a bit foggy on the 'is it a sin or not?' but I am willing to make allowances for your youth. Now, do you have a place to stay?"
She shook her head no.
"Where do you intend to go, child?"
She sat there undecided.
"I thought so. You haven't thought that far in advance. There is a bed in the loft up these stairs.  You shall be safe and no harm will come to you. You are under my protection. And tomorrow we shall talk about what you shall do and where you shall go."

She hugged him as if she were drowning and he was the only thing to cling to.
"How can I ever thank you, Father?"
"By entering a convent and becoming a nun."
She looked at him with a shocked expression until he laughed.
"No, I can see you are not cut out for taking the veil. Now get a good night's sleep and we shall talk on the morrow."
She started up the stairs, Muir trotting after her.
Rhiannon turned and politely asked, "Might I inquire of your name, Father?"
"Simon. Father Simon for all your spiritual needs, Miss Rhiannon."

[Welsh Wench]

Father Simon was baking bread when Rhiannon and Muir came down from the loft. He smiled up at her.
"Would you like a few slices of sunflower seed bread? It was made fresh yesterday. And the butter is freshly churned."
She gave him a radiant smile in return. "I can't think of anything better, Father."

She dropped a few pieces of salt pork to Muir as she spread the butter on her bread. Father Simon continued to knead the bread as he asked her, "And have you decided on any plans, young Rhiannon?"
"Yes, I have. Rhys and I had talked about leaving Wales for a place called Barbados. It's in the Caribbean."
He nodded slowly, "Yes, I know. And that is where you intend to go?"
She took a bite and chewed slowly. "Yes. I think Rhys would have....."
Her voice trailed off. Tears welled up in her eyes and a look of sadness like Father Simon had never seen crossed her delicate features. Her eyes misted to a place far away, along with her thoughts.
And her heart.

"And what do you intend to do with that fine steed?"
She said, "He was the convent's horse. I took him because I refused to have Mother Superior arrange for me to go home in a carriage. With all the money my father donated to keep me there, I feel the horse belongs to me. When I married, my sister Dilys arranged with the groom to have him stabled there. My father really took no note that Taliesin was there and Madoc was pleased to have such a fine piece of horseflesh in his stables. But I cannot take him with me, Father. So I would like to give him to you. As a thank you for a confession well done."
"It's very generous of you, Rhiannon. But he's too fine a gift. Why not sell him?"
"Sell Taliesin to whom? I will not have him passed to strangers. And you would be kind and not work him. And then there is the factor of time."
"And what of your dog?"
She raised her head defiantly. "Muir has been with me since I was six years old. Where I go, he goes."
Father Simon laughed. "A deal, then. But I also have something for you."

He walked over to the mantle and opened a box of rosewood. In a soft cloth, he withdrew a dagger.
It was mother of pearl, inlaid with a ruby on the hilt. He sat down and pressed it into her hand.
"Take it. From me to you."
"Father, I can't..."
"Yes, you can. Let it be a lesson to you, Rhiannon."
He opened her palm and pointed to the ruby. "This represents the blood that has been spilled in the name of lust.  But it is tempered with the pearl, the purity of white which represents the forgiveness of your sins.  Never forget, Rhiannon, that which was shed. But what has now been absolved.  Besides, I have blessed it and you may need it someday."

She took the dagger and slipped it into her bodice. Father Simon pretended not to notice where she kept it.
He said briskly, "And when did you intend to leave for Barbados?"
"As soon as I can book passage. Preferably today."
"But there may be no ships leaving for a few days."
She shrugged, "Then I shall wait till one does. I can procure a room for a few days."
"Are you sure? You are more than welcome to stay here until that time."
Rhiannon shook her head no. "It would be better that I leave. I shall miss Taliesin dearly but I know he will be in good hands. Will you take me to the harbor?"
"If that is what you want."
She said softly, almost to herself, "That is what Rhys would have wanted. He had a friend that would have helped us."
"Does this friend have a name so you can contact him?"
Her brow furrowed. "Fox. Captain Fox. I don't remember the name of his ship though. Rhys told me to go to him and he would help me."

Father Simon dusted flour off his hands and wiped it on his frock.
"I must say sending you off to a foreign land is not setting well with me, child."
"Father, my wolf-dog has been protecting me since I was a little girl. I shall be fine."
She looked off in the distance and said, "Yes, that is where he would want me to go."
"Barbados?"
"Barbados."

[Welsh Wench]

St Lawrence, Barbados--March, 1653

Rhiannon hauled her duffel bag up to the tavern.
"I'd like a room, please."
The tavern owner sized her up. "For just yourself?"
"Yes."
"Just passing through?"
She shrugged. "I don't know yet. I am looking for someone."
"This someone have a name?"
"Captain Fox."
"Hadn't heard of him. What ship?"
She frowned. "I don't know."
"Well, that is gonna make it more difficult."
"Then I will have to try that much harder to look for him, won't I?"
He turned his journal around.
"Sign here."
She hesitated and then took pen in hand and wrote.
He turned it around and said, "Honour Bright. Unusual name."
"My mother said it was an oath of fidelity. To be true to oneself, she always said."
"Uh huh. Well, your room is the second one on the right."
"Thank you."
As she climbed the stairs, she asked, "Any other ports here in Barbados?"
"Bridgetown."
"I'll start here."

Rhiannon opened the door and her room consisted of a small bed and a chest of drawers. She opened the window, her nose wrinkling to the smells in the alley. Quickly she shut it.
The voyage had taken three months. Captain Weston was very solicitous. As a personal favor to his cousin, Father Simon and seeing as he was a God-fearing man, he made sure no harm had come to her. He made sure she dined in his cabin and the crew left her alone. Not a bad idea that Captain Weston told them that she was his niece. That made her off limits.

Three months had given her plenty of time to grieve over Rhys. And every time it was like a fresh wound. She would spend her hours staring out at the sea, praying that Rhys would forgive her for running out like she did. But what more could she have done? Madoc's sons would see that she would be brought to justice and she couldn't take the chance that they wouldn't dig deep in their pockets to see the justice would go the way they wanted. After all, Judas Iscariot got what he wanted.
For a price.
She drew the sheets back and laid down. Before she knew it, she was sound asleep in a bed that finally wasn't rocking.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Excuse me...I'm looking for a Captain Fox that ports in Barbados. Have you seen him?"
"What is the name of his ship?"
"I don't know."
"I'm sorry. Don't know any Captain Fox."
She walked outside, despair on her face. Tavern after tavern, it was the same story.
"No--ship's name?"
"I'm sorry. Never heard of him."
"Nope, little lady. But will I do?"
She looked up at the sign.
The Varlet and Vixen.

Her eyes adjusted to the darkness. A tavern keeper with a kindly face was polishing glasses.
"Can I help you, Miss?"
She nodded. "An ale, please."
He poured her a tankard and set it in front of her.
"I'm looking for someone. A Captain Fox. Does he port here?"
He shook his head. "Not that I know of."
She sighed and drank her ale.

A few minutes later, a scurvy man sidled up next to her.
"You looking for Fox?"
She turned to him and her face lit up.
"You know him?"
"Aye. He just ported this morning. Down at the dock right now. Fer a few shillings, I take ye to 'im."
She dug into her purse and gave it to him.
"You sure he isn't in a tavern? After all, it's getting dark."
"He's at the docks like I said. Takin' care o' is crew."
She looked over and the tavern keeper was nowhere in sight.
She sighed. "Alright."
They left the tavern.
"Down this alley. It's a shortcut to the dock."
She followed him around the back of the tavern. "Are you sure?"
Suddenly she was thrown against the bricks and the dissolute pirate was pressing her body into the bricks, his hands roaming all over her and tugging at her skirt and chemise. She tried to scream but he covered his mouth with hers.
"WHAT THE HELL?"

The tavern keeper was in the alley dumping his trash. He threw it down and grabbed a huge club.
The pirate turned around and ducked just as the cudgel swung and barely missed his head. He scrambled to his feet and ran off. Rhiannon slumped against the bricks, too shocked to cry out.
"Here now, Missy. Whatever possessed you to go in the alley with that scum?"
"He--he said he knew Captain Fox and would lead me to him."
Suddenly the enormity of what almost happened overcame her and she broke down in sobs. Her face to the bricks, she covered her face with her arm, her body wracked.
"Alright, young miss. You come with me."

He led her to the back room of the tavern and sat her down in a chair.
"Jared can take care of the tavern for a minute. Here's a warm wet cloth."
He wiped the tears off her face but they kept flowing.
"What you need is a hot meal. When was the last time you had one?"
Rhiannon shrugged. "I guess maybe a few days ago."
He looked at her sternly. "A few months is more like it. Look at you. Your clothes are hanging on you. You stay right here."
The tavern keep disappeared for a minute and came back with a bowl of stew and some brown bread.
"Made it myself and it's got meat in it to build you up. Now you eat and don't get out of that chair until every last drop is mopped up with that bread. And milk. Girl like you needs milk. Not ale."
He came back with a fresh glass.
Hungrily Rhiannon devoured the meal.

The tavern keeper turned his chair around and faced her.
Sternly, he said, "You can't keep looking in tavern after tavern asking for a captain, Missy. It's only going to land you in hot water. What if I hadn't been there to save you? These men have no qualms about using a woman and then maybe even killing them when they are finished."
Rhiannon's eyes grew wide.
He continued, "Yes, well, I can see that never crossed your mind. So why are you looking for this Captain Fox?"
She took a deep breath. "I was told by an old friend if I was ever in trouble, this captain would help me. Now I need his help."
"And what help would that be?"
She didn't answer.
"Yes, well, I figure we all have our secrets. So where are you staying?"
"Over at The King's Falcon."
He snorted. "A dump."
"You have a better idea?"
He looked at her thoughtfully. "Aye. I do. I happen to have a room upstairs. It was the tavern wench's that ran off with a sailor last week. Left me shorthanded. You interested in a deal?"
"What sort of deal?"
"I run a clean establishment. Nothing fancy but the food is good and the ale is cold. The rum isn't the best but it's not rotgut. If you are willing to help me out, I'll let you stay in that room. Mine is down the hall, Jared's is next to you. I promise you no harm will come to you. They would have to get through the both of us to get to you. In exchange, you can help lay spirits down. The men will leave you alone. Between Jared and Malcolm, we got you protected. The pay will be what you can wheedle out of these old salts. And I am willing to wager you will do fine.
So how does that sound?"

She looked around. The place was clean and lively. And it would afford her more time to find Captain Fox.
"And I can have whatever coins I sweep up off the floor?"
He broke out in laughter. "You drive a hard bargain, Missy. Sure as I am sitting here, what you can glean is also yours."
She extended her hand. "Honour Bright, tavern wench at your service."
He took her hand and instead of shaking it, he kissed it.
"Amos O'Reilly at your service, Miss Bright."

She smiled and asked, "When can I start?"
"How soon can you get your things?"
"If you lend me Jared, I can be back in an hour."
"Well, welcome to The Varlet and Vixen, Miss Bright!"

[Welsh Wench]

July, 1653

Rhiannon ran back and forth between the tables. Once or twice she felt a pinch on her bum but as she turned around, the culprit must have been diverting his attention elsewhere.
"Hey! Tavern wench! More rum!"
She yelled back, "Hold your water, old man!"
To which the pirates' table broke out in raucous laughter.
She brushed her hair out of her eyes with the back of her hand. Someone smacked her on the behind and she wheeled around, gently grabbing the offending pirate by the lapels of his frock coat and pulled him close to her. She sensuously licked her lips.
"What's your name, pirate?" she breathed softly.
"Peyton," he winked to his fellow pirates.
Rhiannon sat on his lap. Peyton thought he was going to get lucky. She leaned over and whispered in his ear, "Peyton, darling--touch my arse once more and the dagger in my boot will be lodged in your chest. And believe me, it won't be Cupid shooting an arrow through your heart. Savvy?"
Peyton turned red with embarrassment combined with fury. She stood up and gave him a wink for the benefit of his friends.
"What? What did she say, Peyton?"
"Yeah, you meeting the lass later?"
"Don't hold out on us!"
But Peyton, embarrassed, went back to his ale. Still,  he couldn't take his eyes off the lass' assets.
She looked over at the dissolute lot that frequented The Varlet and Vixen. Shaking her head, she sighed and murmured, 'I really need to find something else to do with my life.'

Clearing off a table and pocketing any coins carelessly left behind, she arched her back to stretch.
A nowhere job with nowhere people, all heading in the same direction.
Nowhere.
Amos yelled, "Honour! Those pirates at the table by the window be wanting more ale. So pick up these tankards and get your pretty self over there."
She sighed and headed over with a tray. As she turned around to put the tankards down, one of them grabbed her around the waist and drunkenly said, " I've got a place fer ye to rest yer assets, darlin'...."
She picked up a tankard and dumped the contents over his head, to the riotous laughter of his shipmates.
Walking over to Amos, she said furiously, "If you don't want a killing on the premises, then I would suggest you let me have a break."
Amos couldn't blame her. The afternoon crowd  had been there since mid-morning and the later the afternoon, the drunker they became.
"Sure, darlin' . Go for a walk around the block and cool off."

She stood out back and looked towards the sea. 'If I can just find Captain Fox, maybe I can figure out what to do. I just can't believe that no one has heard of him. Maybe a few days down in Bridgetown will bring more results.'
She sighed, tied her hair back and walked back into the den of thieves.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rhiannon had only been working six months when a handsome captain came into the tavern. She walked up to him as he sat down at the corner table, his back to the wall.
"Something I can get for you?" she asked.
He looked up at her with deep brown eyes and grinned. "An ale...to start out with." He constantly looked out the window.
"Are you expecting company?" she asked.
"Company?" he laughed. "You are new here, are you not?"
She blushed and retorted, "Something amusing about that?"
He shook his head and said, "No. I never heard it put quite that way. But yes, I am expecting company."
"Shall I tell him you are here if and when I see this individual?"
He looked at her and blinked. "Such high-class words for a tavern wench."
She glared at him. "What makes you think a tavern wench has to speak in one-syllable words?"
He laughed and said, "Point well-taken. I am waiting for a Captain Wolfe but I don't see him. His ship has not ported."
She came back with his ale and he beckoned to her. "Not much business yet, and I'm in need of company."
She opened her mouth to retort a reply and he held up his hand.
"I am not taking you for a doxy. Just some intelligent conversation."
She suddenly smiled and held out her hand to him. "My name is Honour Bright."
He kissed her hand and said, "And I am Captain James Blake of the 'Dark Vexation', just ported this morning."
"Where are you from, Captain Blake?"
"Please, call me James. Ireland. Wicklow, to be precise. And you?"
"Originally from Wales. A town near Beaumaris."
"Very pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Bright...."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It lasted two weeks. She remembered their last night together. They had spent the night in her room above the tavern. He held her close and kissed her.
"If you're ever back in Barbados...." she whispered.
"Aye. I know..."
Before the morning dawned, he was gone.

She got up and wrapped the sheet around her. On the dresser was a package.
Upon opening, she found a beautiful bolt of sky blue silk. She smiled softly as her fingers touched the fabric. And then her eyes inexplicably filled with tears.
And the reason then dawned on her.
James Blake was the first man she had been with since....since him.

Tears traced down her face as she fought back the sobs.
And one thing became clear to her.
He was not Rhys Morgan.

She walked over to her casement window and opened it. Through her tears, she saw the sails of the Dark Vexation almost out of the harbour.
'Goodbye, James,' she whispered.
Rhiannon went back to bed and hugged her pillow, her tears wetting the case.
She cried until there were no more tears.
'Would it always be this way?'  she wondered.
She felt disloyal to Rhys' memory. Ashamed that she let another man take his place, even temporarily. It wasn't James' fault. It was just the way it was.

She washed her face and looked in the mirror.
'At least he was a captain...'
And at that moment, she didn't feel ashamed anymore.
She just felt...nothing. For no one.
Not even herself.
'Love,' she thought. 'Love is just an excuse for...'
She didn't need an excuse anymore.
It would be captains or nothing.
And she wasn't going to settle for 'nothing'

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

September, 1653

It had been a full two years, maybe more, since Jack had heard a pub tale about a certain ship.  A ship said to carry the entire year's profits of the Dutch East India Company's operations in the New World back to Holland.  She was fast by any country's standards, solidly built, and heavily armed so she wouldn't have to be slowed down by escorts.  Other pirates had tried to chase her down, but found themselves outrun, or crippled for daring to engage, or both.  Her name was the Stad Utrecht.

Jack originally dismissed the stories as just another sailor's yarn, because he saw no way the VOC could possibly be foolish enough to put all that treasure on one ship, no matter how fast or heavily gunned she was.  Everything changed when he met a Dutch captain named Korteweg in a tiny pub on the island of Nevis.   Korteweg was deep in his cups, bragging mightily about the wealth and power of the Dutch, and how they would one day rule the entire New World.  Jack egged him on for laughs until the drunk Dutchman started boasting how no one had figured out that the Stad Utrecht took different routes at different times to a destination on one of the three islands of Aruba, Bonaire, or Curacao, known by mariners as the "ABC" Islands.  All the silver and gold the Dutch accumulated during the year was melted down and re-minted into guilders and kroners.  Less than two weeks before the Stad Utrecht was to arrive, a fast mail runner was dispatched to the islands, carrying letters to the three governors notifying them where the treasure would be picked up.  The money would be quickly transported under heavy guard to the the appointed port, where the Stad Utrecht would swoop in like an eagle grabbing up its prey then head back out to sea.

Jack couldn't discount the man's story; it was far too detailed.  He had learned over the years to trust words of a drunken fool above those of the most sober priest.  Priests were used to keeping secrets, where a drunk fool never knew when to shut up.  He continued to ply the Dutchman with drink until the man couldn't string two words together.  Jack asked a tavern wench for some paper and a pen and ink.  He wrote down the specifics of the Dutchman's story while they were still fresh in his mind.  It became his habit to refresh his memory with those notes whenever they dropped anchor at a port that had dealings with the Dutch, friendly or hostile.  Talk among the crew had him obsessed with with a phantom ship, almost as obsessed as he'd become with a mysterious sealed chest he'd discovered aboard a French ship.  But with Jack Wolfe, obsession and determination could be virtually indistinguishable.

He came ever so close to finding out the Stad Utrecht's route when he was imprisoned by Diego Mendoza.  One more thing added to the list of reasons to hate the vicious Spaniard.  When he had regained his strength enough to return to the sea, he abandoned the lucrative hunting ground that had made him and his crew so wealthy to cruise waters Bonita "saw" were most likely to be taken by the Stad Utrecht.  They took a ship here and there to put a few coins in the crew's pockets, but not so many as to dissuade the Dutch from continuing to use that road.  The men were unhappy with with Jack's choices, but none dared part company and none dared complain too loudly for fear of drawing Bonita's evil eye.  Jack's wild hunches and strangely inspired decisions had made them all rich men so far, so the crew grumbled in their bunks and hoped for the best.

Finally, Jack's determination paid off. El Lobo intercepted a fast little Dutch mail ship named the Windhond, en route to the ABC Islands near the time of year the Stad Utrecht made its run.  The Windhond tried valiantly to run from the pirate ship, but a series of well placed volleys of chain shot through their sails from El Lobo's bow guns made escape impossible.  The Dutch ship surrendered without a fight and her captain was brought aboard El Lobo for questioning.  He was taken to a stark little room with only two chairs facing each other in it.  After a long wait, he found himself face to face with the pirate who had taken his ship, and a most unusual woman.

"Are you comfortable enough, captain?  I trust you weren't terribly mistreated whilst being escorted here?" asked Jack.
The Dutchman gave him an incredulous look, then without answering tried to find a place on the wall to stare at.
Jack smiled at Bonita, who sat on the floor with a small leather bag clutched in her hand.  "I'll call it a yes," he said with a smirk.  Bonita returned his smile, but went back to staring coldly at the Dutch captain.
"You don't remember me, do you?  Jack Wolfe, from Nevis?" continued Jack.  He fanned himself with a couple pieces of stained paper.  "Me, I remember faces.  And I remember yours quite well, Captain Korteweg."
Korteweg's eyes snapped back to Jack's.  "How do you know me?  I have never met you. I would remember meeting pirate scum like you."
"Well, of course you don't remember.  How silly of me.  You were blind drunk!  Drunk, and running your mouth."  Jack held up the papers, well out of the Dutchman's reach.  "But I wrote it all down.  Every last bit of what you had to say about the Stad Utrecht.  Wasn't that thoughtful of me?"
Korteweg glared at him.  "You are lying," he spat.

Jack held the papers off to the side and began to read aloud.  "Stad Utrecht, treasure ship of the VOC.  Makes an annual run to deliver the year's operating capital and pick up the year's profits.  Always preceded by a mail runner – that would be you – to the ABC Islands... Sound familiar, my friend?"
The Hollander's face turned crimson with shame and anger, but he kept silent.
"Yeah, that's what I thought.  Now that your memory is jarred, when is the Stad Utrecht due to arrive?"
"You have my ship," growled Korteweg.  "If you think the letters are aboard, go find them."
"Let me help you understand something, mate," said Jack calmly.  "The more cooperative you are, the better things will go for you and your crew.  So I'd like to hear the information from you, instead of trying to find the orange sealing wax to close those letters up again."
"And if I refuse?"
Jack shook his head.  "That's where my lovely and talented friend Bonita comes in."
Bonita gave Korteweg a wholly unpleasant smile, more baring of her teeth than anything else.  Her eyes stayed cold and flinty.
Korteweg snorted.  "You would leave the, how do you say it?  The dirty work, to a woman?  You do not frighten me, Wolfe."

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

Bonita slowly got to her feet, never once taking her eyes off the Dutchman.  His sneer evaporated when he saw the long bone-handled knife in her hand.  She circled behind him, stalking him.  Korteweg began to sweat.
"What-- what is she doing?  Make her stop!"
Jack shook his head pityingly.  "You reap what you sew, mate.  It's out of my hands."
Bonita's knife flashed, and the Dutchman flinched as she came away with a hunk of reddish-blonde hair.  She walked back to her original spot, casually turning the knife in her hand.
"Dis tell Bonita all she need to know about de little Dutch man," she said menacingly.  In one motion, Bonita slipped the knife back into her clothes and sat down on the deck.  Then she pulled a long chicken bone from her pouch and tied the lock of hair around it.  Once she was satisfied the knot was tight, she held the bone to her lips and whispered something, then let it fall to the floor.
Korteweg watched her warily and crossed himself.  "You did not say she was a witch!"
"You're the one who wanted to be stubborn," said Jack.  "Now, I'm not going to pretend to know what it was she just did, but it can't spell good news for you."
"I bind him to de trut', so Bonita can tell if what he say be true, or lies," she intoned.  "De bones reveal all, and bones no lie!"
"There you have it then," continued Jack.  "You have an opportunity to better your situation and tell me the truth.  Or you can be stubborn, and suffer the consequences.  And to help you better decide, she is the consequences.  Her and her knife."

Korteweg swallowed hard, and began talking freely.  As the Dutchman spoke, Bonita rolled the bones over and over, announcing "Him telling de trut'" nearly every time.  Only once did she shoot Korteweg a warning look, telling Jack, "Dere is much more him not telling."  Korteweg sighed and divulged the information.  He verified that the Stad Utrecht was indeed en route, scheduled to arrive in twenty days.  She would be carrying money collected from some of the lesser outposts on St. Kitts and St. Eustasius, as well as the next year's operating capital.  Her first stop was to be Curacao to collect the profits, then on to Aruba to deliver the operating money.  The Dutch had become so secure with the speed and might of the Stad Utrecht and the safety of their own waters that they no longer felt the need for caution in handling such an incredible amount of treasure.

"Thank you, Captain Korteweg," said Jack.  "You've been most helpful.  I'll make certain you and your crew are treated fairly."
"You will let us go, yes?"
Jack gave him an amused look.  "Of course not!  I may be called mad, but I'm no fool.  A little vocabulary lesson for you, Mijnheer:  'treated fairly' does not mean 'released'.  It wouldn't do for you to run ahead and warn everyone about my presence in these waters, now would it?  I need you out of the way for a while, at least twenty days.  Continue to cooperate, and I'll make sure the island we make you governor of is an hospitable one."
Korteweg slouched in his chair, defeated.  He had naively hoped in that his cooperation would buy the freedom of his men.  To make matters worse, his first major assignment as a captain of the Dutch East India Company was a failure.
"Oh, don't look so dejected," said Jack.  "You and your men get to stay alive.  That's something to celebrate!"
"You are the Devil," said Korteweg bitterly.
Jack shook his head.  "I prefer 'entrepreneur', but we're just splitting hairs now.  Keep your seat, captain.  My men will be round to escort you to the brig.  And there will be a guard on the door, so no use trying anything heroic."
"Bonita will sit wit' our guest until de men come," she said quickly.
"What?" asked Jack.  "You-- no.  No, come along.  I'll post a proper guard."
"De Dutchman, him already know him no match for Bonita," she countered, with a light in her eyes that made Jack uncomfortable.  "Bonita too fast wit' de knife.  And ot'er t'ings, too.  If him know a man be outside de door, him will try to escape.  De bones, dey show dis t'ing to me already."
Jack sighed, knowing all to well it was useless arguing with Bonita if her bones were involved.
"All right, all right!  But you watch him, and that's all.  Understand me?  No mischief!"
Bonita put her hands behind her back and gave Jack a self-satisfied smile.  "Bonita be a good girl for Jack Wolfe.  Him de captain, and him word final!"
"Well, that was way too easy," Jack muttered to himself.  "Whatever!  I have plans to make.  Captain Korteweg, it has been a pleasure.  I'll see you later.  Bonita, you stick to your promise!"  He closed the door with a loud clack of its latch.

Bonita waited until the sound of Jack's bootheels faded completely.  She turned to Korteweg with a malevolent smile. 
"Now, Bonita have some questions for de Dutchman.  And him gonna answer dem all, wit' de trut', or wit' him blood..."

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

"I must be out of my mind to leave Bonita alone with Korteweg," groused Jack as he spread out some charts of the southern Caribbean on the large table in his cabin.  He scribbled down some hasty notes from the conversation with Korteweg, still muttering to himself.  "If I had a farthing for every time I've let that woman talk me into something... never mind, I do.  More like ten for every time.  Still, I must remember to count his fingers next time I see him..."
He poured himself a large tankard of rum and began going over his notes, comparing them to the maps.  The route the Stad Utrecht would take was indeed out of the way, but it wasn't a stretch to see her speed would make up for the extra distance.  But an intercept in open waters was risky.  One faulty manouever on Jack's part, and the prey could take the wind and run before he could correct his mistake.  No, to catch this prey, he'd have to do the thing they'd never expect: attack in her own waters.

Jack went to the bookshelf and pulled out a large leather-bound book containing detailed maps, or rutters, of various islands, inlets, and estuaries.  He selected the rutters for Aruba, Bonaire, and Curacao, carefully spreading them out on the table.  Notations in the margins reminded him of perils in those waters beyond the natural hazards of shoals, reefs, and straits.  The VOC ensured there were heavy patrols throughout the island chain thanks to their heavy influence with the monarchy.  To make matters worse, the Dutch had adopted a policy of employing pirate hunters.  They operated on the fringes, with small, fast, over-gunned sloops.  They didn't care about making arrests.  They got their pay for stopping pirates and their trade, no matter what.  Taking a healthy swallow of rum, Jack began to plan his most ambitious, and dangerous, trap ever.

A knock came at the door, momentarily breaking Jack's concentration.
"Go away!" he snapped.
"Jack, it's Cade."
"Don't care!  Busy!"
Jack didn't look up as the door creaked on its hinges.  A handsome young man with light brown hair, tousled and sun-streaked with gold, and soulful green-grey eyes looked around the door.  It was Cade Jennings, the young man Jack had rescued as a lad from the streets of New Providence years earlier and made his protege.  Jack often jokingly referred to him as "the son he never wanted."  But what a protege Cade had become!  Piracy was second nature to him.  He was especially adept at smuggling, both the mechanics and business side of things.

Jack looked up, and did a slight double take.  He'd never noticed it before, but there were times Cade bore a resemblance to his old friend Rhys Morgan.  Maybe it because Jack had received word just two weeks before that Rhys was dead, murdered in the home of a nobleman back in Wales last Winter.  That explained why Rhys never showed up in Barbados with his lady love.  Hard to start a new life when you're dead.  Jack silently cursed his old friend and business partner for following his heart and getting killed for it, just as he had warned.

Jack shook his head and gave Cade a scowl.
"Which part of 'go away, I'm busy' didn't you understand?"
Cade laughed as he stepped into the cabin.  "I'm here under orders of the good doctor.  He says you need to take time out to eat something today."
"Who says I haven't?"
"Anyone who knows you.  This is the third straight day I've had to remind you to take a meal."
"The fourth," Jack corrected.  "You've become quite the nag, Cade.  Keep it up!  You'll make someone a fine wife."
"What can we say to get you to quit obsessing over that Dutch ship long enough to eat?  You can't live off rum, you know."
Jack looked up from the charts and pointed out toward the sea.  "Tell me the Stad Utretch is tied up along side with her crew under guard.  Then I'll worry about eating.  After we're bloody rich.  I don't have time to go topside for food." 
"I thought you'd say that," said Cade.  He went to the door and retrieved from the floor a tray carrying a plate heaped with food.  He put it down on the table in front of Jack, then stood back with his arms crossed.  "Now you don't have to leave the cabin.  Eat."

Jack picked up a bone with a hunk of meat attached.  "What's this supposed to be?"
"Chicken, of course."
Jack sniffed it and dropped it back on the plate.  "Albatross is more like it.  He killed the last chicken a week ago."
Cade shrugged and took a seat across from Jack.  He poured himself some rum and took a glance at the maps spread across the table.
"Things went well with our Dutch guest, I take it?"
"Better than I'd imagined," smiled Jack.  He confirmed the route and timetable of the treasure ship, including her cargo and destinations.  This is it, Cade.  Finally, I will have her!"
"Then what?"
Jack gave Cade an uncomfortable look.  "What do you mean?"
"You'll be richer than you ever dreamt.  We all will.  You'll have netted the biggest prize ever.  What's left after that?"
"Retirement?!" snorted Jack.  "Getting impatient for me to hand over the reins, Cade?  How amitious of you."
"You know what I mean, Jack.  Most people would want to go out on top.  It's only fitting for the career you've had."
Jack took a sip of rum and thought a moment.  "It's a tempting thought.  But I still have a few scores to settle.  A big pot of money would go a long way to that end."
"Mendoza?"
"For starters."