PRELUDE TO EL LOBO DEL MAR

[Welsh Wench]

Beaumaris, Wales

"Come on, Muir--let's go check."
The wolf-dog raised his head and gave what passed for a sigh. He trotted off to the docks with his mistress.

Rhiannon scanned the port, then to the horizon. No sign of the sails she longed to see. She tried to keep the tears that welled in her eyes from spilling over.
'Two months now. He promised, Muir....he promised."
Muir put his muzzle in Rhiannon's hand. She pet her faithful companions head, then hugged his neck.
'Why, Muir? Why is he not here?'
She felt a hand on her shoulder. Turning quickly, she came face to face with one of the novitiates.
"Mary Agnes."
"Come with me, Rhiannon.  Mother Superior wants to see you on a matter of grave importance."
"What now?"
"I have no idea."
"Oh, bother! I forgot to make the beds."

Rhiannon stood in front of the Mother Superior.
"Your dog stays out of the office."
She lifted her head in defiance.
"Muir stays with me."
Mother Superior drew her mouth into a tight line.
"Very well. How long has it been going on?"
"How long has WHAT been going on?"
"You and...that man."
Rhiannon felt her heart sink.
"What--what do you mean?"
Mother Superior stood up, her face a mask of contorted rage.
"You have been meeting that man. Often and in a most unseemly manner."
Rhiannon's mind raced.  How? How did Mother Superior find out?
She drew up her courage. "I don't know what you are talking about," she said haughtily.
Mother Superior took her switch and smacked it so hard on her desk that it broke in two.
"Do NOT add lying to your sins, Rhiannon."
At this point, Rhiannon knew she had been found out so she mounted her counterattack.
"So I was seen talking to a man. That doesn't mean anything. I have talked with lots of sailors. I find them alot more fascinating than burying my nose in a hymn book and wailing a dirge like the Benedictine monks. If talking to colourful and interesting people is a sin, then yes, I am guilty."

The nun's face twisted in rage. "You have been found out, Miss Conaway. Someone finally came forward. Her conscience bothered her and she confessed what she saw to a priest."
Rhiannon couldn't believe what she was hearing. Not so much that she had been confessed to a priest but the fact that a priest violated the sanctity of confession.
"The priest felt it was his duty to tell me to save your immortal soul. Little did he know the problems I have had to endure because of you. Your father has been generous to us as our benefactor. But it seems your time has run out. I am sending you back to your father."
"You-you're sending me away?"
"He can deal with you and your sinful ways."
"Sinful ways. If talking to a few sailors is a sinful way, then yes, I am guilty of that."

Mother Superior took great delight in her next words.
"Your sinful ways consist of more than chatting. More like pleasures of the flesh. Oh, yes! You were seen coming out of a cave with a--a pirate! The person who observed you on more than one occasion had seen you come out arm-in-arm with a man who is renowned in these parts as a pirate who uses the cliffs and caves for his smuggling operation. The last time you trysted in there, you left behind a blanket and a candle. It wasn't hard to deduce what had been going on in that cave!"

Rhiannon was beginning to see there was no defense. She was being sent back to Lord Conaway. Her head bent down in defeat and her shoulders sagged.
The Mother Superior then went in for the kill.
"You have been looking more pale every day and losing weight. You are not with child, are you?"
At that Rhiannon snapped back to reality.
"With child? No, I am not with child. I almost wish I was! I'd have someone to love me. And you'd best hear it from me, Mother Superior! I would raise that child in love and not with alot of detestable and harsh rules--or with beatings. And my child would be the child of the most feared and awesome pirate in Wales---in the world!"

[Welsh Wench]

That day, Rhiannon Conaway packed her meager belongings. She carefully folded the yellow dress that she wore the first day she and Rhys had made love. Muir stood beside her, his tail wagging. Almost as if he knew they were breaking free from the chains of the Order of St Brigid.
Mother Superior had arranged for a carriage to transport them back to Lord Conaway.

As Rhiannon walked down the hall, the nuns and novitiates were lined up. She looked each one of them straight in the eyes.
Each one met her gaze. Some with pity, some with compassion. One or two with a faint amusement.
And one who stood with her eyes cast down.
Mary Agnes.
The novitiate.

Mother Superior stood at the door. Stiffly she said, "God be with you."
Rhiannon replied, 'Whatever."
"Your carriage is waiting."
Rhiannon said, "I would like to say goodbye to Cedric if you don't mind. It will only take a few minutes. You can grant me that one favor, can you not? I mean, since you made so much money by my being here...."
Steely, the Mother Superior said, "Alright. Ten minutes. No more."
Rhiannon nodded silently.

As Muir trotted beside her, she said softly to him, 'Don't question, Muir. Just stay with me. I know what I am doing.'
She went to the side door of the stable and opened it up.
There stood one of the horses of the Order of St Brigid.
A white stallion by the name of Taliesin.

Muir started to bark.
"Hush, Muir! The way I understand it was Father gave alot of money to the Order to keep me here. So, in a sense, I think this horse belongs to the Conaways."
She quietly bridled Taliesin. He was a stallion seventeen hands high.
She took Muir and hoisted him over the crossbars of the stall so his feet were dangling over each side. He whimpered as he hung there.
"Quiet, Muir. It is just for a minute."
Throwing her bag over the back of the horse, she climbed the crossbars and jumped expertly onto Taliesin's back.  Reaching over, she scooped up her wolfdog into her waiting arms.

She whispered, 'Think you are going to send me home in a rented conveyance like some Scottish woman? Think again, you old battle-ax!  Lady Rhiannon Conaway will go home in her OWN way."

She touched Taliesin's neck and whispered, 'Off to the meadows, Taliesin. I heard the hay is good and that pretty little mare is usually out there.'
He whinnied and tossed his head, walking briskly towards the door.  She murmured, 'Just like a man to trot off if there is a good bedding to be had....'
As the horse cleared the door, she kicked him hard in the flanks. Taliesin leaped and galloped across the meadow.
Towards Rhiannon's childhood home.
For all six years of her life.

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

Caribbean Sea, near the Grenadines

Rhys heard a tentative knock at the cabin door.  He was plotting the ship's latest position, attempting to determine just how far away they were from their destination of Barbados.  With a sigh, he put his instruments down and took a sip of brandy.
"Come," he announced.
The door slowly opened, and Brother Rodrigo stuck his head into the cabin.
"I hope I am not disturbing you," the abbot said.
"No, not at all, Brother!  Please, do come in."  Rhys picked up his measuring rule again as Rodrigo closed the cabin door and took a seat across from El Lobo's acting captain.  "I was double-checking our position.  I have to say that I'm quite proud of the crew!  They're going to earn that incentive money I promised at this rate."
"You have a fine crew, Rhys.  They have been most respectful of us.  Not at all like what I had been told about life aboard English ships.  Certainly not what I expected on a pirate ship."
Rhys smiled.  "You'll find this is no ordinary pirate ship."
"Of course it is not!  She is as unusual as her master."
"Yes, well...  Jack is, to say the least, unique."
"I can see that from the fierce loyalty he inspires in his friends."  Rodrigo shifted in his seat.  "Josiah told me of your sacrifice to lead Jack's rescue."
"Not a sacrifice," sighed Rhys.  "Just a delay.  The moment I'm sure Jack will recover fully, I'll be bound for Wales as fast as my ship will take me."
"She must be extraordinary."
"She's fast and hearty, worthy of my last ounce of pride.  I inherited her from my uncle when he retired to a life on dry land."
Rodrigo chuckled.  "I was referring to the reason you want to get back to Wales so urgently, Rhys."
"You... OH!"  Rhys felt his face grow hot.  "Yes, extraordinary is a good word for Rhiannon.  It feels like I've been away from her for an eternity.  I would have been back already, if Jack hadn't gotten himself kidnapped."

Rodrigo nodded, choosing to ignore the bitter notes in Rhys' voice.  Rhys was a man in love and a man delayed.  Some resentment was natural.
"Speaking of Jack... how long before we make port?"
Rhys made a measurement and checked the number against some others he had jotted down earlier.
"By this, just under two days.  The crew have done a fine job!  I asked them for eight days instead of ten, and that's what they're giving me."
"I see," Rodrigo said grimly.
"I don't like the sound of that," said Rhys.  "What's the matter?"
"We have run out of the medicine to treat Jack.  Our attempts to fight his fever caused us to use it up too quickly."
Rhys exhaled slowly.  "Damn."
Rodrigo nodded in agreement.  "Alejandro and I shall do what we can, but he will need a doctor's care immediately once we reach land."
Rhys slapped the ruler down on the table in frustration.  "There's no more speed to be had.  The masts are already at the breaking point as it is."
"Then it is is God's hands."
"I pray He's in a charitable mood."
"He is always charitable, Rhys," said Rodrigo.  "But like any charitable father, sometimes He says no."

The next two days passed slowly, even as El Lobo sliced through the sea, her masts and hull groaning in protest.  Briggs had the ship's cooper adapt some of the metal bands used to reinforce barrels to serve the same purpose for the masts.  Jack's fever returned just as the monks feared, quickly driving him into delirium.  Rodrigo and Alejandro tended to him with diligence and patience in spite of his ravings.  Billingsly, the barber-surgeon, insisted on bleeding Jack to "correct an obvious imbalance of the humours" and bring down the fever.  The monks vehemently opposed this, going so far as to wait until Billingsly passed out once again from too much liquor and stealing his keys to the surgery.  He awoke to find himself deposited on the main deck, locked out of his own domain.  His complaints to Rhys fell on deaf ears, and he resigned himself to finishing out the trip bunked with the rest of the crew on the gun deck.

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

Finally, El Lobo reached home.  She charged into the harbour at Bridgetown late at night, blazing lanterns hanging from the yards, bowsprit, and gunwales.  They did not wait for a pilot to guide them in safely.  Instead, Briggs brought them in as close to shore as he dared and dropped anchor.  Even before the anchor cable had been drawn taught, the ship's longboat was being lowered over the side.  Inside it, bundled in blankets for warmth and restraint, was Jack, with Rodrigo and Alejandro at his side.  No sooner was the boat in the water than Rhys, Briggs, and Dolan clambered down the ship's side and began rowing for all they were worth.
"I still don't know where you expect to find a physician in the middle of the night," said Dolan.
"Neither do I," said Rhys grimly. 
"That's why we're goin' to see somebody what knows every doctor in Bridgetown," Briggs said.
"And they won't shoot us for coming round at this ungodly hour?" asked Dolan.
Briggs chuckled.  "Not this someone."

"All right, all right!  Hold your horses, damn it!" the woman shouted at the pounding coming from the back door.  She walked as quickly as she could, the jade green fabric of her skirts rustling loudly as she did.  "Stupid drunken tars, banging at the wrong door again!  It won't get you served any faster, I'll see to that!"
She angrily flung the door open and drew a deep breath to start her normal tirade about which entrance was the proper one for patrons to use at her establishment.
"Listen up, you silly-arsed--- RHYS!"
She threw her arms around his neck and gave him a hug.  But her mood quickly changed when she looked behind him to see Briggs and Dolan carrying an unconscious Jack.  Behind them stood two very uncomfortable looking monks.
"Oh, sweet weeping Jesus..."  She held up her hand quickly.  "Begging your pardon, brothers.  What did he get himself into this time?"
"Sorry to show up on your doorstep like this, Renee," said Rhys.  "But he needs a doctor, and a good one, straight away."
"I can see that.  You did right by bringing him here.  Well, don't just stand there, get him out of this night air!" said Renee.  "Take him up the stairs, first room on the left.  Nobody's using it, and the linens are fresh.  I'll not have him on my parlour couch smelling that that!  He'll scare off the clientèle!"
"You're all heart, Renee!" teased Briggs as he passed her.
Renee's red curls danced as she laughed.  "And it's solid gold from what they say!"

A few curious faces peeked around the corner from the parlour to see what the commotion was about.
"Shoo!  Nothing to see!  Get back to your gents, the lot of you!"  Renee gave the monks a polite smile as they followed after Jack.  It was hard to say who was more uncomfortable with the situation, her or them.  She waited until they were on the stairs before turning to Rhys.
"All right, what gives?" she demanded.  "You pop in here, middle of the night, Jack looking like three miles of bad road?  And with monks?  If the gents see those two they might suddenly get a conscience, and that's bad for business!"
"It's going to take a while to explain," said Rhys.
Renee held up a finger, then walked quickly to the front parlour.  Rhys could hear a burst of giggling as she returned with a nearly full bottle of rum and two glasses.
"What was all that?" he asked.
She flashed him a demure smile.  "The girls think we're going to do more than chat.  Not that I wouldn't mind it.  Any of them would love to have a go with you."
Rhys smiled and felt himself blush.  "Now, Renee..."
"I know, I know.  That girl in Wales has your heart and everything else locked up for herself.  What's her name again?  I remember it's lovely, with lots of consonants."
"Rhiannon."
"It sounds so pretty when you say it!  How I do envy her," Renee said as she eyed Rhys.  She put the glasses on a table and filled them with rum.  Then she took a seat, and motioned for him to join her.  "Down to business, then.  What the hell happened to Jack?"
Rhys took a sip from his glass.  "Mendoza."
Renee went pale.  She drained her glass and refilled it.  "Blimey.  He's lucky he's alive at all.  Right!  From the start, then..."

For the next half hour, Rhys told the tale of Jack's abduction, the intrigue at the abbey, and his subsequent rescue.  Renee listened with rapt attention, reacting in horror, anger, disbelief, and laughter at the twists and turns of the adventure.
"Now the monks make sense," she said as she finished off another glass of rum.  "Mendoza would have killed them both sooner than later.  Kind of you to give them a lift.  It's a pity that Alejandro went and took the vow, though.  I wouldn't mind a religious experience with him!  Yelling 'Oh God!' counts, right?"
Rhys couldn't help but laugh.  "I don't see how it wouldn't!  They really were invaluable for keeping Jack alive this long.  And they'll be able to explain the workings of the herbs to the doctor better than I could hope to."

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

"Speaking of which, we need to find that doctor!  I know all of them in this town."
"Briggs thought you would."
"Ain't he the sweetheart?  And he's right.  Only the best for my girls, I say!"
Rhys got to his feet and offered a hand to Renee.  She stood up quickly, and pitched forward into Rhys' arms.
"Oh!" she laughed.  "I think that rum went to my head!"
"Renee, you can drink me under the table any day."
She slapped his chest.  "Fine then, you're on to me.  But I knew you'd catch me in your arms."
He looked down at her and raised an eyebrow.  "The doctor, Renee?"
"Yes, fine, the doctor.  God, you're no fun!"
She went back to the front parlour and took one of the girls aside.  After a few moments, she walked down the hallway toward Rhys again.
"All right, dreamboat, come with me!  I know just the doctor we need."
Renee opened the door and stepped through.  Rhys followed her outside.
"I hope he won't mind us waking him up," he said.
She shook her curly red tresses.  "I seriously doubt he's asleep.  The sun isn't up yet."
"The sun isn't...?"
"You might say he's working through a few things.  Oi, keep up!  Over this way.  We're going to the White Hart."
"And just what is he 'working through'?"
Renee sighed.  "He moved to the island some five or six months ago with his new bride.  Emily, I think her name was.  Anyway, after about a month of paradise, she decides she's homesick and wants to go back to England.  Problem is, he's under contract to the governor here.  If he goes back, he breaks the contract and has to repay all the expenses for moving them here plus a year's wages.  I don't have to tell you they moved here with the clothes on their back and little else.  Poor bastard did everything he could think of to keep Emily here, but she wouldn't have it.  She wrote daddy, who sent money to get her back home.  So off she went."
"That had to be devastating for him!" said Rhys.
"Oh yes.  Not that he let on at first, mind you.  He was gallant and understanding as she made ready to leave, and kept a stiff upper lip after she left.  For about two weeks.  After that he fell apart, bless.  Now if he's not doctoring, he's drinking.  Ah!  Here we are."
Renee waited for Rhys to open the door for her.  He did so with a gentlemanly bow, and she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.
"Gotcha!" she giggled.
Rhys shook his head and smiled, and followed her inside.

The White Hart was a typical tavern, with an expansive common room filled with tables of varying sizes.  A bar where the tavern keeper poured drinks and dished up food was near the back, away from the door.  A large hearth was behind him, with a crackling fire for heat and cooking blazing away.  A wooden staircase near the bar led up to the private rooms that could be rented by the night.
Only a handful of people were in the tavern, scattered all about the room.  The tavern keeper rolled his eyes when he saw Rhys and Renee enter.  Two more people to bother with.  His relief was evident when Renee held up her hand and shook her head to let him know they didn't want anything.  She pointed over to a table where a dishevelled was sitting hunched over what was left of his drink.
"There he is," she said with satisfaction.
"Him?  He's a wreck!"
She gave Rhys a pained look.  "Fine!  Go back and get Billingsly if you think that butcher can do any better.  I'd rather not lose my business partner, thank you kindly!  You want the best for Jack?  So do I.  And he's it."
Rhys held up his hands in front of himself.  "All right!  Sorry!  Lead on, Madame Renee."
Renee rolled her eyes.  "Oh, very cheeky!  Come on, pirate boy!  Time for you to meet the one and only Doctor Drake Gander."

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

She led Rhys to the doctor's table and took a seat on the bench next to the drunken man.
"Drake?" she said softly.  "Are you all right?  You look a bit peaked."
Gander wobbled a little, then he turned to look at her.  His face went through several puzzled expressions as he tried to get his eyes to focus on her.  The light of recognition finally went on.
"Why, Renee!  How good of you to let me come by for a visit," he slurred.  Rhys stifled a laugh.
Renee shook her head.  "No, Drake, you're still at the White Hart.  We came to find you."
"And did you?"
"Yes, yes we did, Drake.  We found you just fine.  But we need you to come with us now.  This nice young man and I will help you.  His name is Rhys."
Drake looked around woozily at Rhys, then back to Renee.  "Whatever for?  I'm not done with my drink!"
"A friend of mine is terribly ill, and he needs your help."
"Surely a dose of clap can wait until tomorrow..."
Renee sighed, her patience clearly beginning to wear thin.  "Drake, we're afraid he might be dying.  We need you to see him now.  Please?"
A scowl came over Drake's face.  "Dying?  That won't do at all.  We should get moving!"
He tried to stand quickly, and found his legs were like rubber.  Rhys caught him before he could fall.
"I fear I may need a little assistance."
Rhys gave Renee a dubious look.  She shot him an equally stern one in response as she took Drake's other arm.  Together they manoeuvred the drunken physician away from the bench and toward the door.
"Hey, what about my money?" the tavern keeper yelled.  "He owes me two pounds and six!"
"I'm good for it, Aidan!" replied Renee.  "Two pounds six?" she asked Drake.  "When did you start drinking today?"
"Um, noon, maybe?"
"And this is the doctor that will save Jack?" said Rhys.
"He sobers up fast, Rhys, don't worry."
"I do?"
"Yes, Drake, you do.  Remember?"
"Oh, ah.... no."
"Trust me, you will," she said.  "And you trust me, too. Rhys.  This will work!"
"For Jack's sake, I hope you're right."

They managed to guide Doctor Gander out the door into the quiet streets of Bridgetown.
"How does the night air feel, Drake?" asked Rhys.
"Much better, thank you.  That tavern was awfully stuffy.  I feel positively light!"
"Then how's about using your legs instead of us doing all the work?" Renee groused.
"Oh my!  I'm so sorry!" said Drake, promptly dissolving into a fit of giggles.
"Renee..." said Rhys warily.
"Don't make me drop this drunken sod and smack you, Rhys Morgan!"

Once inside the back door of the house, Renee motioned to where Dolan and Briggs had carried Jack earlier.
"Here, let's take him up the back stairs."
"I suppose we should afford him some dignity," said Rhys.
"Dignity, hell!  The girls will mob him if we take him round front."
"He's that much of a ladies man?"
"No, the girls love him because he keeps them working.  'Doctor Magic', they call him."
"HE is still awake and listening to everything you say," hiccuped Drake.
"Thanks for warning us, pet," said Renee.  "Now lift those feet.  There we are!  Just a few more to go...  Oops!  Sorry!  It's a narrow stairs.  Did you even feel it?  I thought not.  Up and up, almost there...."
Renee got in front of Drake and held his hand to help steady him.  Rhys got in behind, keeping a hand on Drake's back to keep him from falling backwards down the stairs.  When he reached the top step, he stumbled and fell forward into Renee.  Rhys tried to hold on to him, but was pulled off his feet as well.  The trio landed on the floor in a heap with Drake on top of Renee, giggling like a fool.
"Oof!  Get off me!" she complained, wriggling out from underneath him.  "I charge extra for this sort of thing!"
A door opened behind them, and Briggs looked out into the hall.
"Would you three quick muckin' about and get in here?  And don't tell me that's the doctor."
"Fine," said Rhys as he helped Renee to her feet.  "We won't."
Briggs rolled his eyes and swore under his breath before coming out into the hall.  Together, he and Rhys helped the inebriated Drake to his feet.
"I'll get the coffee started," said Renee.  "He's going to need it by the gallons."
"Come on, Doctor Magic," Rhys said.  "Time for you to meet your patient."

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

They half walked, half dragged Drake into the room.  The doctor squinted, trying to process the scene before him.  A man with long brown hair and a full beard lay in the bed, obviously feverish.  Hovering over him were two monks, both of them eye Drake with suspicion.  Drake took a deep breath and squared his shoulders.
"Thank you, gentlemen," he said, his words a bit less slurred than before.  "I'm quite all right.  I'll have a look at my patient now."
He walked unsteadily toward the bed, pausing once to check his balance.  "Perdoneme, amigos," he said to the monks with a deferential nod. "Por favor."
Rodrigo looked to Rhys, who gave a single nod of approval.  The monks stepped aside, allowing Drake to sit on the edge of the bed.  He took a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed the sweat away from Jack's face.  Then he touched Jack's forehead with the back of his fingers, and shook his head slowly in disapproval.
"Rhys, what is his name, please?"
"It's Jack."
Drake gave a little smile.  "I should have guessed.  Hard to find a sailor not named Jack.  It's the most common nickname of those employed in the nautical trade.  So tell me, how long has he been like this?"
"We have been fighting the fever for just over a week now," said Rodrigo.  "But we ran out of medicines two days ago.  He has been asleep since this morning.  A few times he has cried out from bad dreams."
"What were you treating him with?"
"A variety of native herbs and roots.  I do not have a full list of them with me.  It is back on the ship."
"Whatever they were, you've done an admirable job of keeping him alive.  I'm curious to see that list."  He patted Jack's face gently.  "Jack?  Jack, I need you to wake up.  Come on!  That's a good man.  Eyes open!"
Jack's eyes fluttered open.  They darted back and forth as he fought to focus them.
"That's it, Jack.  Stay with us.  Keep your eyes right here on my face.  Can you understand me?"
Jack looked away for a moment, then back to Drake.  He nodded.  "Uh huh."
"Don't worry, your friends are right here.  I'm going to be looking after you now.  My name is Doctor Gander.  But you may call me Drake."
Jack's eyebrows knitted together.  "Drake....  Drake Gander?" he said through parched lips.
"Yes, that is my name, Jack.  Good for you!  You're with us in the here and now--"
"Duckie?"

Drake stared at him in disbelief.  "How did you know that name?  No one has called me that in a very, very long time."  He though for a moment, and his eyes grew wide.  "No, it can't be!"
"Oxford," croaked Jack.  "You and me."
"Sweet mercy...  Jack?  Jack Wolfe?"
Jack gave a slow nod.
"But how?  Why?"
"Long story..."
"What?  Oh!  Of course it is!  Where's my head?"  Drake turned to Rhys.  "I need you to fetch my doctor's bag."  He dug in a pocket and produced a key, which he tossed to Rhys.  "My office is on Chapel Street, at the corner with Lower Broad.  It's the next street over, um, that way.  You'll find the bag under the desk.  And do tell Renee to hurry with that coffee!  Have her bring water, too."
Rhys stood there, stunned by the sudden transformation of the man he had only minutes before dragged out of a bar and up the stairs.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" demanded Drake.  "Off you go!"
Rhys blinked, then headed for the door.  "I'll be back shortly!"
"See that you are, Mister Morgan!"  Drake turned back to Jack, who was smiling up at him.  "Well, well.  Jack Wolfe!  I never thought I'd lay eyes on you again.  Don't you worry.  Whatever malady you have, I shall cure you of it."
"I know."
"Now close your eyes and rest.  I'll be waking you soon enough to pour awful tasting things down your gullet."
Jack managed a smile, and let his eyes drift closed.
Drake looked at his old friend and shook his head.  Whatever separate roads they had taken, for whatever reason, they had converged again.  Where would they lead next?

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

"Well, look who's got his colour back!" said Renee cheerily.  She stood at the door of Jack's room with a steaming bowl of soup in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.
Jack sat up in bed a little more, setting aside the book he was reading.  "Are both of those for me?  Or do I have to choose?"
She stepped inside and set the bottle down on the table.  "You get both, but in proper order!  I know better than to let you choose.  You'd have the wine over food any day of the week, but it's for medicinal purposes.  To build up your blood.  What's that you're reading?"
"Nothing, really.  Something I'd started before this whole fiasco took place.  I had Briggs fetch it for me to pass the time."
She peered at the cover.  "Another of your egghead books.  I can't even begin to pronounce that."
"Oedipus Aegyptiacus," he said with a smile as he took the bowl from her.  "Some German bloke thinks he's figured out how to read Egyptian hieroglyphs, 1500 years after everyone else forgot.  I don't buy it, but he's got some interesting ideas.  Might lead to something someday.  Mmm, this is good!  Where'd you find leeks?"
"One of the farmers took a notion to try growing them, and they turned out!  I thought you'd like a little taste of home."  Renee pulled the chair over beside the bed and sat down.  "You had us terribly worried, Jack."
"Worried about me?  What on earth for?"
"You were asleep four whole days, for starters.  Drake wasn't sure you'd make it."
"Duckie worries too much.  And so do you, Pip."
She gave Jack a stern look.  "Oi!  You can call me Renee like everyone else.  It was your idea after all.  Pip Woolston from Cornwall ceased to be when Renee de Bertrand was born."
"You wanted to run the classiest house in all of Barbados, so you needed a classy name.  Even if you don't speak a lick of French."
"I know all the really good words," she winked.  "Including lécher."
"Ow!!  Don't make me laugh!" said Jack.  "Not until these ribs heal!"

Renee looked at Jack, and he could see the worry in her eyes.
"You're hovering, Renee."
"Damned right, I'm hovering.  This time was really close, Jack.  Briggs said he thought you were a goner more than once."
Jack looked at his soup bowl and toyed with the spoon.  "So did I."
"And?"
He gave her a confused look.  "And what?"
"Maybe you should give a thought to changing tack, Captain."
Jack stayed silent for several seconds.  "You have an annoying habit of reading my mind."
"No, it's that for once you're actually thinking ahead.  All I ask is that you don't shove it aside.  Some of us like having your worthless arse around, Jack Wolfe.  You know, for laughs."
"Oh, is that all I'm good for?" he said in feigned shock.  "A few laughs, nothing more?"
"Not with your ribs cracked up like they are, you're not!  If you think I'll do all the work, you're more addled than usual," she said with a bawdy giggle.  "I'm not that charitable."
"You're all heart, Pip."
"So they tell me, but you and I know different."  She leaned over and took his hand.
"Promise me you'll think about it, Jack?"
He nodded and gave her a little smile.  "I promise."
"Good.  Now finish your soup.  I'll be back in a while to fetch the bowl.  If you're up to it, we'll crack that bottle of wine.  Maybe tomorrow we'll see about giving you a shave. "
Renee got up from the chair and went to the door.  She paused for a moment as if she had more to say, then turned and left the room.
Jack took another bite of soup and let his gaze go far away.  Maybe this was a wake up call?  A tap on the shoulder to let him know that perhaps his days as a pirate were numbered?  He sighed and shook his head.
"No.  Not today.  I'll think about it tomorrow."

[Welsh Wench]

  
Wales--Late autumn, 1652


Riding up to the manor of the house she grew up in, Rhiannon rode straight to the stable. Currying an incredibly large stallion was a groom. She alighted from her horse and led Taliesin into a stall.
The groom turned around and said, 'What in the name of the gods do ye think ye are doin' there? This be estate of Lord Conaway. This not be a tavern and ye canna be just droppin' yer steed 'ere."
He stood there with his hands on his hips and started towards her, his face red with indignation.
She barely suppressed a grin. "Hello to you, too, Parry."
Parry looked closely, "Do I know ye?"
She faked a little girl voice and said, 'My father said I could ride Goliath. He gave me permission. So are you going to bridle him for me or shall I do it myself?'"
Parry looked at the young woman before him. "No! Can't be! Impossible!"
She grinned at him and said, "Do you need any more proof than that? 'Here, Parry--I brought you some blueberries. I am sorry they got squished in my pockets. They were delicious!' "
Parry's face split in a grin. "Well, I'll be! Miss Rhiannon! Thought I'd ne'er lay me eyes on ye agin! Are ye home to stay?"
Rhiannon led Taliesin into a stall and grabbed a curry brush. "It all depends, Parry. How welcome do you think he would make me?"
Parry shrugged. "Been--what? Ten years?"
"More like eleven. I'm seventeen now."
He took the curry brush out of her hand and with his hand under her chin, tilted her face up to meet his.
"Ye be in trouble, child."
She turned her face away and patted Taliesin, ignoring the question.
Just then Muir ran into the stable. He looked at Parry and then jumped up on him, knocking him down.
Rhiannon commanded, "Muir! Down! Muir sat down at her feet. She reached out and helped Parry up.
He said, "That be MUIR? Why, he be a mere pup when he left. But then, ye be a mere slip of a lass when ye left."
She looked at Parry and said, "It won't get any easier, will it?"
Parry shook his head. "No."
"How is he?"
"Older."
"How will he receive me?"
Parry hesitated and then picked his words carefully. "He'll be beside himself."
She turned to go. "That's what I was afraid of."

Rhiannon made her way to the manor house, Muir at her heels. She knocked on the front door. It doesn't feel like home anymore. Do I even have one? A man who she did not know opened the door.
"All trade is to be taken to the rear of the house by the servants' entrance."
He closed the door. She turned to Muir and laughed.
"Can you believe that, Muir? Kicked out of my own childhood home!"
She continued to laugh as she went around the rear. In reply to her knock, the door was opened. The cook, Mrs. Quincy, took one look at her and the dog and then threw out her arms.
"You've come home, dearie! And with the dog too!"
Rhiannon laughed and said, "You are the only one who recognized me, Mrs.Quincy!"
Mrs. Quincy bustled her inside. "I thought about you every day and twice on Sunday! And you are just how I imagined you would have looked. Had you been allowed to stay here and grow up proper!"
The cook hurried to give her a glass of milk and some hot scones. She took them eagerly. "No one could match your scones, Mrs. Quincy!"
"Are you home to stay, child?"
"That depends."
"Have you been let go from the Order?"
"Let's just say I left voluntarily and let it go at that, alright?"
Mrs. Q. sniffed and said, "Never was a place for a bit of a lass like you anyhow."
"Is he about?"
The cook nodded, "Aye. He is in his study."
Rhiannon made a face. "That was the last place I saw him. Couldn't even come to see me off when I was handed over."
Mrs. Quincy pursed her lips. "Don't think the servants didn't notice either."
"And my sisters? How fare they?"
"All married well and contented. They are scattered over the shire. You have several nieces and nephews."
"Wonderful! I shall catch up with you later. I had better get this over with. I need to see if I have a bed tonight or if I sleep in the stable."

[Welsh Wench]

She knocked on the study door. A gruff voice from within said, "Come in."
She opened the door tentatively. "Hello, Father."
Lord Conaway stared. "What are you doing here?"
"Happy to see you too, Father."
He stood up and gave her a perfunctory hug. Not much warmth there, she thought.
"Order couldn't handle you either, could they?"
"It was time for me to leave, Father."
"And tell me the story."
"I'd rather not."
"Either you tell it or you can keep going."
"You'd throw me out?"
They both stared each other down. He motioned for her to sit down. She did. The silence was palpable.
"Alright, if you must know, I made a few mistakes. So I felt the time was right to come home and reacquaint myself with the family."
He tented his fingers and said, "No need to tell me what mistakes you made. You're not with child, are you?"
She grew indignant. "Certainly not!"
He shrugged. "You may stay here. For now. Until we can work out a mutually beneficial solution to this problem."
"Problem. That is the way you dismiss it?"
He said nothing.
"Very well," she said.
Lord Conaway said, "Your room is exactly as when you left. Your sisters insisted."
She left the room without a word.

Lord Conaway ran his hands over his face. What to do with this unexpected problem that showed up on the doorstep, he thought.  'If she is in trouble with the order, then that is trouble I don't need either'.

He went to the stables.
Parry came forward and said tentatively, "Aye, it be good to have young miss home again, yes?"
Lord Conaway ignored that and took Goliath out of the stall. He mounted his stallion and then said to Parry.
"Don't get too used to it."
And with that he rode off to negotiate a release from his 'situation.'

[Welsh Wench]

Rhiannon looked out the window of the carriage. How different her life had turned out.
From summer to winter, she had metamorphosed from an innocent girl to fallen angel to reluctant bride.
The man who sat next to her was Lord Madoc Castlemaine.
Her new husband.

"What do you mean, I am to marry Lord Castlemaine? He--he's OLD!"
Rhodri Conaway looked at his youngest daughter. He gave a deep sigh.
"What do you expect, Rhiannon? You have acted in a most disgraceful manner. Consorting casually with a pirate. Despicable lot, they are. They have been using my property for their ill-gotten gains. And I found out who it was. Captain Rhys Morgan. And from a fine family, he is! Turns out he is the youngest son of Sir Owain Morgan. Had a promising career and educated at Cambridge until he fell in with his renegade uncle.  Coincidentally, it turns out to be the very pirate you consorted with. The one who left you after he amused himself with your virtue. If I ever get my hands on him, he will pay. Not only for trespassing, but the humiliation he has brought upon this family and the Conaway name. I'll hunt him down and when I find him, I'll stretch his neck."

"NO!" Rhiannon cried.
Rhodri folded his hands across his chest and looked at his daughter coldly.
"Then I would say you had no choice in the matter. Save his worthless hide. Marry Lord Castlemaine and it is that or I will see Morgan hung."
She hung her head in defeat. Lord Conaway took a gentler approach.
"Rhiannon, it's not so bad as that. Lord Castlemaine is willing to overlook your past--indiscretion---in exchange for a young bride. And after you give him children---"
"Children? With THAT fossil?"
Coldly, Rhodri said, "Watch what you say. He is scarcely older than me. As I was saying, all women want children. Lord Castlemaine would provide handsomely for them. And you.
"He already has three. And they are older than me."
"It doesn't hurt to have spare."

She stood there and her shoulders sagged. "I have no choice, do I?"
"Not from where I sit, you don't. Rhys Morgan's worthless life in exchange for a life of privilege and title."
She nodded slowly, her eyes filling with tears as she met her father's gaze.
"Allright," she whispered. "I'll do it."
And with that she ran out of the study.

Within a minute, Dilys stormed in the room. "What on earth is in your head?"
Lord Conaway looked up from his papers.
"I assume you have something to say, Dilys?"
"I just saw Rhiannon. She looked like she was about to faint."
"Brides sometimes do."
"WHAT?"
"Rhiannon has agreed to marry Lord Madoc Castlemaine."
"Are you out of your mind?"
"And you are out of line, Dilys."
"The man's wife died under suspicious circumstances. And you are selling my baby sister to him?"
"He is looking for a young wife and I have a daughter that needs a husband. One who is willing to take her."
"Why? Because she fell in love?"
"With a pirate."
"With a man she loved."
"And where is that man?"
"Something has delayed him."
"Or he took what he wanted and what he wasn't entitled to and left her."
Dilys locked his with her father's. "And when is this happy event?"
"In two days."
"TWO DAYS? Not even enough time to post the banns."
"We can file them after the ceremony. The bishop---"
"Can be bought. The mighty Conaway and Castlemaines throw a few extra coins in the coffers and he will turn a blind eye and wink at the lack of propriety."

Lord Conaway stood up and slammed his fist down on his desk.
"Sometimes I wonder what I have done to deserve daughters such as this."
Dilys raised her chin defiantly.
"Still upset that I married Angus?"
"He's a Scot."
"He loves me. Something that is in short supply in this family. It's a wonder Mother ever had children."
Lord Conaway grew silent and said in a hoarse whisper, "She loved me."
Dilys replied, "And you changed. What you did--and are doing--to Rhiannon, she never would have approved. She was Mother's last gift to you. Instead of cherishing her, you got rid of her. It wasn't her fault what happened to Mother."
"She's always been defiant and headstrong. If she had been an obedient child, I may still have had a wife."
Dilys spat, "You disgust me!" and left the room, slamming the door on the way out.
Lord Conaway ran his hands over his face.
'It's the right thing. It's the ONLY thing.'

[Welsh Wench]

Megan sat on the bed holding Rhiannon as she sobbed, grieving for the apparent desertion by Rhys. In between her cries, she haltingly said, "Something must have happened to him. Rhys would never do that! He wouldn't!"
Gwyneth solemnly looked at the clothes strewn on the bed. Quietly, she asked, "Rhiannon, love. What dress do you want?"
Dilys, leaning against the dresser, asked hotly, "What difference does it make? May as well pick out her shroud."
"Dilys!" Gwyneth admonished as this brought fresh wails from Rhiannon. Dilys held Rhiannon's hand as she said shamefully, "Forgive me, darling."
Megan rocked her sister and soothed her. "Rhiannon, we will always be here for you."
"Gwyneth added, "In time, Rhiannon, it all works out. In the end, all things are equal. Now...what dress, dear?" she asked gently.
Dilys retorted, "That one. The black one over there. And a black veil over her face!"
Gwyneth shot her a look.
Rhiannon stood up. She blew her nose in a handkerchief and with her red-rimmed eyes, defiantly threw the clothes in a pile.
She pulled one out of the bottom. "This one. I want this one."
Gwyneth was shocked.
"You can't wear that! It--it's scarlet!"
Dilys applauded. "I think it is perfect!"
Megan started, "Rhiannon----"
But her little sister raised her chin and said through clenched teeth, "I wear the scarlet one or I don't get married at all."

In the end, a cooler head prevailed. But one act of defiance was known to Rhiannon and Rhiannon alone.
She wore a dress of butter yellow.
The dress she wore the day she gave herself body, heart and soul to Rhys Morgan.

Lord Conaway did not kiss his daughter.

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

Bridgetown, Barbados

Renee transferred the gold and silver coins from one hand to the other as she counted them out.  She gave the older man a dubious glance.
"Now there, gov'nor, you know full well it's one more gold than what you gave me."
"Oh!  Terribly sorry," the gentleman said.  "I must have miscounted."  He dug another coin from his purse and reluctantly handed it to her.  "An honest mistake."
"Of course it was, dove," she said with a smile.  "Come along, Fancy," she said to one of the girls, a pretty sable-haired young woman in a bright red dress.  "Be good to him, yeah?"
"Just like I always do, mum," said Fancy with a smile as she took the hand of the island's commerce minister and led him up the stairs.

Renee walked to the back of the house where she kept the ledger.  It was a large space, encompassing the kitchen and pantry, and a common area for eating and generally getting away from the clientèle.  She made a few notations, then put Fancy's money into one lock-box and her percentage into another.  As she closed the ledger, she heard the shuffle of feet nearby.  She gave a glance off to the side and saw Briggs standing near the doorway, grinning at her like a schoolboy.  A coquettish smile played upon her lips as she straightened the lock-boxes on their shelves.  They didn't need straightening, but it gave her a little more time in the gaze of a man that didn't look at her the way a starving dog would a fat roast.

Renee de Bertrand dealt with men day in and day out, and for the most part she enjoyed being in their company.  As long as they had manners, that is.  She had never been a prostitute herself, but understood the trade well and had managed to establish the finest house in all of Barbados.  In her view, just because these women had turned to prostitution to survive did not mean they should be treated as social outcasts.  Her girls were healthy and happy, each of them there of their own free will.  Renee treated them all with motherly compassion, making sure they were safe, educated, and taken care of.  If someone decided to leave her employ for whatever reason, they were free to do so with no repercussions or animosity.  Renee didn't believe in burning bridges.  Nor did she believe that anyone was truly irredeemable.  She made sure to instil those beliefs in her girls.  Her goal was to give them more than a place to work; she wanted to give them hope.

As Renee straightened the lock boxes, she thought back to a time when she was still known as Penelope Woolston, Pip to her friends and family.  She laboured as a tavern wench in her home town of Penwyn on the easterly coast of Cornwall.  The money wasn't good, but it was an honest day's work.  Every spare penny she had, she squirrelled away for the day she could finally leave Cornwall for some place – any place – more exciting.  Though she had no formal education, she was a voracious reader, devouring any book she could find that could tell her of life in other lands.  Her father, Robert, had a modest trade as a tinsmith.  He wasn't the best at what he did, but he managed to provide for his wife and daughter.  Pip's obsession with leaving Penwyn was a source of irritation for him.  He feared her wanderlust made her a bad marriage proposition.  No man wanted a woman with her "head in the clouds and an eye down the road" for a wife, in his estimation.  That suited Pip just fine.  She had no desire to be tied down or answer to anyone.  Her mother, Felicity, was quietly supportive of Pip's ambitions, however.  She would sometimes accept books as barter for her services as a laundress, and she would tuck them under Pip's bed for her to discover later.  Their private jokes about the book faeries coming to visit were a delight for both women, and kept Pip out of trouble with her father.  Her mother's encouragement helped her hold on to her dreams, even when she was certain they'd never come true.

Then, one day, someone walked into her tavern and her life that not only made her dreams seem possible, but right within her grasp.

A quietly intense young man named Jack Wolfe.

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

Jack was a sailor aboard the merchant ship Laura Anne, in port to take on a shipment of tin and other goods.  He kept to himself at first, content to pass the time as Pip did, reading a book.  He didn't seem at all the type to be making his life on the sea.  He had good manners, was obviously educated, and rarely drank anything stronger than beer.  His ship ported there every three months, and Jack would spend his time ashore at the tavern, reading.  Pip would make a point of waiting on him, sometimes giving up half her tip money from him to the other girls to do so, all for the chance to find out what he was reading.  And to find out more about him.  Finding someone who seemed to be a kindred spirit in a tin town was an opportunity too good to pass up.  And the other girls agreed with her that he was easy on the eyes.

It didn't take long for Pip to strike up a friendship with Jack.  She began asking him about the books he was reading, and his favourite subjects and authors.  The range of subject matter in which he was well versed surprised her.  Philosophy, literature, ancient civilisations, natural science, art-- he seemed to have an interest in everything.  A friendship was quickly sparked.  She told him of her dreams to travel and see the world, and he told her of the different ports he had been to and the people there, fuelling her desires to be free to go where she wanted.   Since the Laura Anne was in port every few months, Jack made a bargain with Pip.  He would loan her as many books as she wanted, as long as she never stopped reading and learning.  And foremost, that she never give up her dreams.  "The world will not record the things we wish for but never try,"  he told her.  Pip took his words to heart.  Her free time was spent reading and learning, and her time working was filled with thoughts of where she would rather be.  Jack's stories of the New World intrigued her greatly, and she read everything she could find about it.  It was a wild and dangerous place, and Pip Woolston wanted to be at the heart of it all.

In a short time, their friendship progressed from long talks by the fire to something far more intimate.  Not a romance per se, but it served to alleviate their mutual loneliness. This arrangement suited them both just fine, as neither was interested in romantic commitment.  They had both tried and failed in that arena before, and weren't in a hurry to fail again.  Pip made it clear that whenever Jack was in port, her bed was warm and waiting, and Jack was happy to oblige her.  Their friendship over the next year a satisfying one, intellectually and physically.

Then, one foggy April morning, Jack failed to walk through her door.

"What day is it, Benny?" Pip asked the tavern owner.
"Thursday."
"I know it's Thursday, you prawn.  I mean what's the date?"
"The 18th.  What do you care?"
She looked at the door and frowned.  "Just wondering is all."
"Oh, you're looking for your sailor boy, aren't you?"
Her cheeks flushed.  "Why would I be looking for him?"
"Call it a guess," said Benny.  "The stack of books under the counter and the fresh linens you took three days ago gave it away.  I'll be taking a tuppence out of your pay for that, don't be mistaken!  You're not due fresh sheets for another two weeks."
"You can take your tuppence," snapped Pip, "and you can shove---"
"Why don't you go down to the docks and see if his ship's here?" interrupted Grace, another tavern maid.  She was ten years older that Pip, and was looked upon by the other girls there as sort of an older sister.  "I'll take care of things 'til you get back."  She cut a look at Benny.  "And it won't even cost you a tuppence."
Benny threw his hands up in the air.  "Fine, then!  Go!  'Cause I'm made of money, what should I care?"
"Oh, shut it!" said Grace.  "She won't be long, and the work still gets done.  Bloody heartless, you are."
"You watch your mouth, girlie!" he warned.
She gave Benny a dismissive roll of her eyes and turned to Pip.  "Never mind Old Tight-Pockets.  You run along and find out about your lad."
Pip smiled happily and gave Grace a quick kiss on her cheek.  "Thanks!  I'll only be a few minutes, I promise!"

Pip ran down the lane toward the docks, her sky-blue skirt flying in the gentle morning breeze as she did.  She stopped at the top of the small hill that led to the quays and looked out over the harbour.  Her heart sank a little when she saw that the Laura Anne wasn't there.  Nor was she anchored in the harbour, and there were no sails approaching that she could see.  In a way, it was a relief that he hadn't suddenly decided to end their friendship without explanation.  But he was almost four days overdue.  What happened to him?

She walked down the hill toward the harbour master's shack, her feet feeling more leaden with each step.  'Maybe there was a storm, or there was a delay at the last port,' she told herself as she put her hand on the door handle.  'No need to bother the harbour master.  I'll give it a couple more days...'
The door opened, and Pip let out a little yelp.

"I'm sorry!" said Mr. Smithers, the harbour master.  He was a kindly, white-haired little man with a chubby face and ready smile.  "I saw you come to the door, and when you didn't come in I thought I'd left the door locked again.  Bother old age anyway, it makes you forgetful."
"No, I didn't want to pester you," she said.
"Nonsense!  I pretty girl like you, pester me?  Why, you'd only brighten my day.  Now, come on inside.  What is it you need, my dear?"
"I- I was wondering about a ship."
"Then you're in the right place!" Mr. Smithers laughed warmly.  He opened up a large blue ledger.  "Which one, and when was it due?"
"The Laura Anne.  It was supposed to be here three days ago."
Mr. Smithers ran his finger down the columns on the page and frowned.  "Actually, four days ago.  She's very late indeed.  I should have known something was amiss.  The Henrietta and the Laura Anne almost always meet up on their way here.  At the worst they're no more than half a day apart.  The Henrietta ported right on schedule."  He looked up from the book, his face full of concern.  "I'm sorry, but I don't know what to tell you.  Is a family member aboard?"
"No," Pip said softly.  "Just a friend."
The man reached across the counter and put his hand on hers.  "Well, they probably got delayed in port.  Ships are always getting held up by slow warehouses, money squabbles, foul weather, and such.  Nothing to worry yourself about.  Your friend will be here soon enough."
She smiled and nodded at his reassurance.  "Thanks.  I appreciate your taking the time to listen to my silly worries."
"Not silly at all, my dear.  You're at the tavern, yes?"
"Yes, at Benny's place.  The Dog and Doublet."
"I'll make sure word gets sent when the Laura Anne arrives.  The minute I'm certain it's her!"
"You're so kind!" she smiled.  "I hope to hear from you soon."  She turned and opened the door to leave.
"He's a very lucky young man, your friend."
Pip blushed a little as she grinned.  "I like to think he is!"

[Captain Jack Wolfe]

Another week passed, and no word from Mister Smithers.  Every morning, Pip would stand at the top of the hill and look out on the harbour, straining her eyes to see Jack's ship, as if she could will it to come over the horizon.  It never did.  A week turned into a month, then three.
She had gone to the hilltop less and less frequently, until she stopped going at all as her hope of Jack's return evaporated.  It was good while it lasted, she told herself.  And like all good things...
Then one evening, she overheard two men talking in the tavern.  She was certain one of them had said the name Laura Anne.
"Excuse me, but I couldn't help overhearing," she began.  "Did one of you mention the Laura Anne?  The merchant freighter?"
"Aye!" said one of the men.  "You knew someone aboard her?"
Pip's blood ran cold at his choice of words.  "Yes.  A friend.  His name is Jack Wolfe."
"Hmph.  Never heard of him.  But he's got me pity if'n he were aboard her a few months back."
"Please, no riddles," she said.  "Do you know what happened to the ship?"
The second man leaned on his elbows and got a grim look on his face.  "Pirates."
The blood drained out of Pip's face at the word.  "No..."
"Afraid so, missy," said the first.  "About three, maybe four months ago, give or take.  Word is they became a prize of Iron Will Harkness hisself.  Ruthless bastard he is.  And he ain't known for taking prisoners.  Ye either join up with him, or die."
Pip's heart felt like it wanted to stop beating.  She knew Jack hated pirates, and would never submit to becoming one.
"I hope it were over quick for yer friend, miss," the second said.  "I'm sorry for ye.  Hell of a way for a man to go, what that lot do to ye."
She backed away from their table, running into another as she did.  "Um, thank you...  thanks.  I, I have to..."  
Pip broke and ran from the public room of the tavern toward the back stairs and the seclusion of her own room.  Benny and Grace watched in surprise as she fled.
"Oi, get back here, missy!" shouted Benny.  "These tables won't wait themselves!"
Grace gave him an angry look as she went to follow Pip.  "Could you shut your yap for half a moment?  Something's upset her, and I'm going to find out what."
"Oh no you're not," said Benny.  "We've got paying customers to serve!"
She snatched off her apron and threw it at him.  "Then put this on and start serving!  If the string will reach around that belly of yours, that is.  I'm checking on Pip, and that's the end of it."
She left the main room, leaving Benny with a handful of apron and an open mouth.

Grace knocked softly on Pip's door.  There was no answer.  She put her ear to the door, but couldn't hear anything.  She turned the handle and pushed gently, and the door opened.  Pip was sitting on the bed with a book in her hand, staring at the floor in silence.
"What's the matter, love?" asked Grace as she sat beside Pip on the bed.
Pip blinked, but didn't look up.  "He's dead, Grace.  The men downstairs said so.  It was pirates."
Grace gently brushed Pip's hair away from her face.  "Your friend Jack?  The handsome one with all the books?"
"Yeah.  Him."  Pip ran her hand over the cover of the book.  "This was one of his favourites.  About some bloke named Socrates by another named Xenophon.  Took me forever to get the names right when I read them aloud.  Always made Jack laugh when I botched them.  Never mean like or anything.  Just a gentle laugh, then he'd help me say them right."
"Oh, Pip.  I'm so sorry.  I know he meant an awful lot to you."
"That's why it doesn't make any sense, Grace."
"What doesn't?"
Pip looked at her friend.  Grace could see a hundred emotions behind the girl's eyes; pain, sorrow, anger, despair, confusion...  Those and more roiled just below the surface.
"Why can't I cry?  I'm supposed to cry, aren't I?  But I can't."
"I don't know, love," Grace sighed.  "Maybe you're just in shock."  She pulled Pip close and stroked her hair.  "It'll come.  Everybody grieves differently.  Just give yourself some time."
"I miss him, Grace.  I just can't accept he's gone.  It hurts too much."
"Did you love him?"
Pip's eyes searched the room, as if the right thing to say would appear on the wall or on a shelf before her.  She bit her lip, then quietly said, "I don't know."
The words sounded hollow to Grace.  She could tell from the way Pip sat on the edge of her seat listening to Jack, the way she looked at him, the way she would laugh and play with her hair when he said something funny, that she did indeed know.  But it didn't matter now.  Jack was gone, and Pip's heart needed to heal.
"You're done for the night, young lady" said Grace.  "Here.  You lie back and don't worry about work.  I'll take care of everything.  Including Benny."  She stood and waited for Pip to lie down, and pushed the candle on the table closer to the bedside.  "I'll be back in a few minutes with a blanket and some hot cider for you."

Grace quietly closed the door, leaving Pip to the silence of her room.  Pip took a deep, shuddering breath, and looked at the book that was still in her hands.  She ran her slender finger along its spine, then opened it at page 1 and began to read.  And as she did, a solitary tear rolled down her cheek.