The Pirate’s Jewel Read online

  The Pirate’s Jewel

  Pirates of Britannia Series

  Ruth A. Casie

  Copyright © 2019 Ruth Seitelman

  Kindle Edition

  This work was made possible by a special license through the Pirates of Britannia Connected

  World publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by DragonMedia Publishing, Inc. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original Pirates of Britannia connected series by Kathryn Le Veque and Eliza Knight remain exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Kathryn Le Veque and/or Eliza Knight, or their affiliates or licensors. All characters created by the author of this novel remain the copyrighted property of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to similarly named places or to persons living or deceased is unintentional.

  Editor: Deserie Comfort of Comfort Editing

  The Pirates of Britannia World

  Savage of the Sea

  by Eliza Knight

  Leader of Titans

  by Kathryn Le Veque

  The Sea Devil

  by Eliza Knight

  Sea Wolfe

  by Kathryn Le Veque

  The Sea Lyon

  by Hildie McQueen

  The Blood Reaver

  by Barbara Devlin

  Plunder by Knight

  by Mia Pride

  The Seafaring Rogue

  by Sky Purington

  Stolen by Starlight

  by Avril Borthiry

  The Ravishing Rees

  by Rosamund Winchester

  The Marauder

  by Anna Markland

  The Pirate’s Temptation

  by Tara Kingston

  Pearls of Fire

  by Meara Platt

  The Righteous Side of Wicked

  by Jennifer Bray-Weber

  God of the Seas

  by Alex Aston

  The Pirate’s Jewel

  by Ruth A. Casie

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  The Pirates of Britannia World

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Inverlochy, Scotland–1265

  “Another?” Gordon Marsanta, the dry goods merchant, raised a wine bottle, eager to pour. “Only the best to seal our bargain.”

  “My thanks. The next time perhaps. I must get to the docks before the ship sails.” Wesley Mills put down his half-empty glass, said his good-byes, and left the shop.

  Best wine? He worked his tongue against the roof of his mouth to rid it of the vinegary taste. He did all he could when he sipped the vile liquid not to spit it out.

  Wesley closed Marsanta’s door behind him. He stood at this same place with his father three years ago, pleased with their visit. At last he was taking action to fulfill his father’s last request. Sometimes, when he allowed his mind to wander he saw his father lying in bed unable to speak, begging him with his eyes. The numbness had passed, but the pain would strike him from out of nowhere. Nobody as good as his father could simply fade away, no longer exist. His father was waiting, watching. Wesley could feel it.

  He took a deep breath to tamp down the overwhelming grief that started to rise in his chest and stared at the crowd of people. They flowed down the narrow lane like the River Lochy rushed along on its way to Loch Linnhe. The mood of the people swirled in unseen currents as they hurried along. Where had all these people come from?

  He met with Marsanta at day-break in order to complete his business in time to sail on the morning tide. It was still early yet the footpaths teemed with people when it should have been empty. Advancing into the horde, the crush made it difficult for him to move. He swore he retreated one step for every three he took forward. He bumped into people and got his toes treaded on as he navigated through the throng and tried his best to hurry toward the docks.

  When he left the ship earlier in the morning with the bolts of silk tucked under his arm, the blackness of his surroundings had been absolute. Little by little, the outlines of houses and market stalls emerged as the dark sky softened to blue and a pink blush stained the clouds.

  He hurried through the market-place on his way to his appointment without having eaten. The aroma of fresh bread that rode on the morning air made his mouth water and his stomach growl. Swiveling his head, he caught sight of a woman arranging a basket of baked goods in her stall. There was no time to stop. The transaction had to be finished quickly before the ship sailed. He made a mental note to purchase the bread on his way back to the ship and enjoy the pastry with some morning ale.

  Wesley spent a healthy part of the morning, much longer than he anticipated, with the merchant. The man drove a hard bargain, demanding the silk for a fraction of its value. He had held his ground.

  The quality of the material was not in question. The price was a bit high, but Wesley had taken all the risks on the Silk Road and waters of the Hebrides where pirates relieved merchants of their goods without payment.

  For Marsanta, verbal sparring with Wesley was a game he enjoyed. Sometimes Wesley let him win, but not today. He hefted the bag of coins tied to his waist. In the end, he got his price.

  The bruising wind battered him as he made his way down the lane. He glanced at the sky. The weather had deteriorated. The soft blue of dawn was now gray and darkened by the minute. A line of ominous black clouds streaked the horizon, replacing the morning’s billowy white ones. Tension and anxiety filled the marketplace as the tumult of people scurried around in a mad rush to complete their purchases and return indoors before the skies opened.

  He licked his lips, eager to taste the fresh bread as he headed for the baker’s stall. He needed something to help rid him of the taste in his mouth.

  Gusts of wind raced down the streets. Merchants used stones and anything at hand to anchor their wares to the tables to prevent them from blowing away. He hurried past booths that were cleared and closed and came to an abrupt halt in front of the baker’s stall. Nothing. His mood fell faster than a loaf of bread taken from the oven too soon. Had the baker sold all his bread? His head snapped to the right in the direction of the bakery. Or did he fear the bad weather? Perhaps the goods were inside. He moved down the lane. In the distance, a river of people moved in the same direction, toward the bakery where a young boy hurried out clutching his prize.

  He slipped into the front of the line.

  “Where does he think he’s going?” Shoved from behind, Wesley straightened to his full height and looked down his nose at the villager. The complainer shrank back a step and examined the ground.

  Intimidation, a tactic he’d learned training to fight with his bare hands, served him well at court, in the King’s service, at other times, and apparently, now.

  “We’ve all waited in line.” A woman with a red scarf tapped her foot and shot him a cold stare. “Wait your turn like the rest of us.”

  He said nothing as he stepped to the baker’s table. He shifted from one foot to the other as he waited for the old w
oman in front of him to arrange the three breads she bought in the basket and finally left.

  “One loaf of bread.” He slapped his coin on the table.

  The baker gave him an evil look while he swiped the coins from the counter, and his wife gave Wesley a loaf of bread.

  He let out a breath and glanced at the line behind him. Fifteen people filled the small area. Some avoided looking at him, tapped their foot, kept looking out the door and still others gave him a tight-lipped smile. All they wanted was their bread so they could get wherever they needed to go before it rained.

  Wesley took more coins out of his pouch and gave them to the baker’s wife.

  “What’s this for?” she asked as she examined him then the coins. The people around him quieted and listened.

  “This should be enough to pay for everyone’s bread. It’s my way of thanking them for letting me come to the front of the line.”

  The woman in the red scarf stared at him then at those around her. Whispers rushed up the line like a fast moving storm.

  With a tip of his hat to the baker’s wife and a respectful grin to the woman behind him, he made his way out of the bakery the beneficiary of smiles and blessings.

  He stepped into the intersection of two lanes amid a flurry of people and wagons. The wind whipped around the buildings. A lost child wailed for his mother and shopkeepers shouted offers at the top of their lungs, trying to sell the last of their goods.

  Urgency won out over politeness as people hurried along, bumped into each other, and stepped on toes without any sign of remorse.

  Villagers gave a wide berth to a young boy, the same one he saw rushing out of the bakery. The child was trying to tug a loaf of bread from a growling dog. The animal was obstinate and refused to let go. Wesley stepped around the scene as the animal fiercely shook his head, snapped his prize out of the child’s hands and sent him backward.

  Wesley caught the lad before he tumbled in front of an oncoming wagon.

  “Are you hurt?” Wesley asked, setting him upright.

  The lad searched up the lane, his face a mass of tears, a small piece of bread clutched in his fist.

  He didn’t have time for this. But his heart went out to the lad with a gaunt face and scrawny arms.

  “No use going after the dog. He’s eaten your bread by now.”

  The boy looked at him with sorrowful eyes.

  Wesley went to his pouch to take out a coin, then decided against it. The child would never get through the baker’s line.

  “Here, I have an extra loaf.” He handed the bread to him.

  “Sir? I don’t—”

  “Don’t lose this one.”

  The youngster clutched the bread close to his chest and looked up at Wesley, his eyes full of gratitude.

  “Many thanks, sir.” The lad’s face lit in a smile.

  “Now off with you,” Wesley nudged him on.

  The boy hesitated a heartbeat then hurried off.

  Wesley’s stomach snarled and growled. He licked his lips then shoved his hands in his pockets and continued on to the dock.

  He kept his eyes on the distant housetops searching for the mast with the blue flag. The mast should be visible from here. Still looking up, he turned the corner and slammed into a gentleman, sending the man’s hat flying.

  “Whoa, Wesley. Why the hurry?” Graeme Maxwell, a ship-owner and head of the Ellenbeich Merchant Association, stood in front of him. Startled, Wesley picked up the older man’s hat, brushed it off, and handed it to him.

  “Sorry, Maxwell. I’m on my way to the dock. My silks are aboard the Trade Winds.”

  Maxwell gave him a pitiful look and laid his hand on his shoulder. “There’s no need to rush. She already sailed.”

  He glanced toward the harbor and checked again. Surely Maxwell was wrong. He controlled the epithet that formed behind his teeth and raised his arm toward the waterfront.

  “My silks.” His arm fell to his side. He gave his thigh a hard slap. “I stowed them on board this morning. How will I get to Dublin now?” He ran his hand through his hair.

  “You’re in luck. I brought my new ship, the Sea Diamond, to the Hebrides from my European route. The Trade Winds’ Captain Hawker challenged my Captain Richards. He was adamant that his birlinn ship could beat my cog to Ellenbeich. We’ve given Hawker a head start. Come with me. Richards and I would be happy for you to join us.”

  “I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “After you are reunited with your cargo in Ellenbeich we can all celebrate our victory while you wait for a ship to Dublin.”

  “Here, let me pay for my passage,” Wesley began to reach for his money pouch, but thought better of it. He pulled a large green gem from his pocket placing the jewel in Maxwell’s hand. Maxwell dealt in gems and would find this more appealing.

  “The gem is beautiful.” Maxwell held it to the light and studied the stone then gave it back to him. “Put your treasure away. I won’t take advantage of you, down on your luck having missed your ship. I know the tight margins of trade.”

  “You are the gem expert. Did I strike a poor deal for this?”

  “Strike a deal? Is that how you came to own this gem? Or were you trying to keep it? You’re bruised and cut.” Maxwell stared at the discoloration on his face.

  As a boy, Wesley was bullied and never was any good at fighting, but in the King’s service he quickly understood that fighting was a path to survival. He learned that lesson two years ago.

  “Your money or your life.” Two thieves demanded.

  “I have nothing of value.” Wesley pulled his pockets inside out to show them he had nothing.

  The bigger of the two came at him. He pushed the man’s hands away, turning him to the side. Wesley grabbed his opportunity. He bent low, his shoulders into the man’s hip and wrapped his arms above his knees and pulled him down.

  The other thief pulled him up by his collar and pinned his arms behind him.

  The big man swung and hit him in his stomach. He bent over but didn’t go far. The man holding him pulled his arms back further. Dazed, his head came up in time to see a fist aimed at him.

  “This is too easy.” The thief pulled back his arm for another blow, a wide grin on his face.

  “Then let me make it more difficult.” The man spun around and was caught in the jaw by a right cross, then fell to the ground unconscious.

  “Now, now, we was just having fun with our friend,” the thief said.

  Through swollen eyes that could hardly see, Wesley saw his protector approach, his glare focused on the man holding him.

  The thief pushed him toward the man and fled. The Viking lord, to whom he had sold three bolts of silk, caught him. “You don’t look too bad. Come, we’ll get that swelling down.”

  “You have my thanks,” Wesley said.

  “You need to learn a thing or two about defending yourself, my friend. Consider this your first lesson, one on what not to do. We’ll start the rest of your instructions tomorrow.”

  The memory faded. Wesley touched his bruised chin. He was still taking lessons from the Viking.

  “You found me out, Maxwell” Wesley jested. “I train with a friend whenever our paths cross, but I assure you he looks no better.”

  “Maybe I should hire someone to teach me. Trading is becoming a dangerous livelihood. Pirates roam the waters seeking easy prey. But enough about somber things, you asked if the stone is valuable. It is. Let me know if you’d like to sell it. I’m sure we can agree on a price.”

  Maxwell’s confirmation to its value satisfied him, although he was surprised the man didn’t take the stone for passage.

  “I saw your Sea Diamond at the dock. She’s impressive, but a cog design is big, not as sleek or fast as the lighter birlinn design of the Trade Winds. Some would say without any oarsmen and only wind for power, you are at a disadvantage.”

  Many along the shipping route were aware Maxwell was bringing his new ship to the Hebrides. None of the tra
ders suspected a cog design. It was a radical change from the birlinn design used in these waters, and an expense. He glanced at the man from the corner of his eye.

  “Do you really believe that? You’ve captained ships similar to the Sea Diamond in the Mediterranean. You must know the cog is more maneuverable. Their sail can be moved to catch the wind no matter the direction. The stationary sail on the birlinn can’t do that. The cog’s deep hull can carry more cargo for trading, and soldiers for fighting. I had fore and aft-castles constructed for protection and comfort. But you can see that for yourself. Come, we must hurry. I don’t want to give Hawker any more of an advantage than I already have. We can discuss the merits of the ship once we’re on board.”

  Maxwell didn’t give him a choice, just pulled him along at a quick pace toward the dock. But few did something without taking payment or without a reason, Maxwell included. That all remained to be seen.

  A privateer for the English King out of the Cinque Ports in the south of England, his actions lined the King’s pockets and made Wesley a wealthy man. He piloted many cogs in Europe and had a lot of experience with a ship like this. The lessons he learned on the sea served him well.

  Now, Wesley walked the deck of the Sea Diamond, a cross between a merchant ship and a man-of-war. The improvements were impressive. It would take Maxwell’s crew some time to learn the ship if they didn’t lose it to the pirates.

  The Sea Diamond had fortifications in the bow and stern. Built above the gunwales, the small castle had arrow slits in the walls. He nodded his approval at the protection they gave archers as they rained arrows down on the enemy from their position. If the ship was boarded, the fortifications would be powerful strongholds, very difficult to breach. Under the one at the bow was an open storage area, but there were closed cabins under the fortress at the stern of the boat.

  The Sea Diamond had the usual main square sail and a triangular lateen sail as well. The lateen was angled to extend far above the square sail and down nearly to the deck. The free end of the sheet secured near the stern. With an adjustment, this sail captured the wind no matter what direction it came.