by Ahimsa Kerp
Lord Klaye bowed to the Earl. “Good day, my lord. Are we ready to set sail?”
The Earl stared openly at Lyrie, tucked in behind Everild. “Who’s this? You said nothing of another passenger.”
“My apologies. This is my nephew Lyle Klaye of Sunspar. He has been sworn into my trust, and I’m afraid he must accompany us.”
“This is no expedition for boys, Klaye. We haven’t the room nor the time if he lags behind.”
“He’ll keep up, I promise,” Lord Klaye said. “He is nimble and strong, despite his girlish face and skinny arms.”
The Earl shook his head. “I won’t have it. There’ll be fighting and he’s like to get killed. You can leave him in the care of my chancellor.”
“I’m sorry, my lord, but I can’t in good conscience do that.”
The Earl’s face had turned red, but before he could say anything more, Terryll yelled down at them from Black Zefferus.
“All aboard, my lords! We need to be in the river mouth now to ride the incoming tide.”
Lyrie nearly gasped as she recognized Terryll’s voice and saw him standing there. She knew better than to say anything or let him see her, though. If he recognized her, he would say something, and if the Earl knew she was a whore he would no doubt force her to stay behind and join the other camp whores. It would be better to get on-board and safely at sea, then she could reveal herself to Terryll and let him take care of Lord Klaye and the Earl.
The Earl and Lord Klaye were still glaring at each other, however, and neither seemed intent on boarding.
“My lord,” the leech said, stepping forward, “Perhaps it would be wise to get onboard where you can continue this conversation. If the boy need be left behind, he can return with the ship’s crew.”
Terryll’s crewmen were already untying the ship from the cleats on the dock.
“Wise counsel, leech. Let’s go. Lord Klaye, we will continue this conversation later.”
Lord Klaye bowed his head and they all followed the Earl up the gangplank wordlessly.
Terryll stood at the stern castle, looking down at the Earl’s men on the main deck, while his own crew steered Black Zefferus towards the mouth of the River Ordan.
“Welcome aboard Black Zefferus. I am Captain Payce. As long as you’re all onboard, I am in command. If you disobey orders or get in the way, you’ll be pushed overboard or find a curtelaxe in your throat.” Terryll grinned and brandished his own curtelaxe to illustrate, much to the amusement of the soldiers. “As long as the wind holds, my crew can handle the ship on their own. When the wind dies you all become oarsmen and will be required on deck, but until then, stay out of the way. Stay below deck in the cargo hold. On deck you’re in my crew’s way and like to get knocked overboard by a swinging yardarm. You can come on deck at night when we’re anchored or when you need to relieve yourself. There’s no head, just a railing to piss over. When you need to make shit, hang your arse over the rail, and do so abreast of the main mast, or again, you’re like to get knocked overboard by a yardarm. If you can’t find me, Alwyn is my first mate and second in command. Are there any questions?”
None of them said a word.
“Below deck then, men. It’s good to have you aboard.”
The Earl’s men were a hard lot—all solid veterans in battle—so Terryll didn’t expect to have any trouble from them. Alwyn climbed up to the stern castle to join Terryll once they had all dutifully gone below deck. “That little lord with the boy is a bardache,” Alwyn said with a grin.
“What lord? The Earl?”
“No, the one that was hiding in the back, behind all the soldiers. Methinks he didn’t want to be seen by you.”
Terryll frowned. He’d been intent on getting the ship out of port and into the river, and paid little attention to whom the Earl brought onboard. He hadn’t even noticed this other nobleman.
“He had a boy with him, you say?” Terryll asked.
“Aye, and he’s a bit too familiar with the boy, squeezing his arse when he thinks no one is looking and rubbing his man bits against him.”
Terryll frowned. “Stay away from him.”
“You’re not afraid of a little bardache, are you, Cap’n?”
“I’m not afraid of anything, mate, but I am wary. That’s the Earl’s man, and I don’t want any trouble with the Earl.”
Black Zefferus entered the River Ordan on the incoming tide, and with the strong offshore wind they sailed nearly two leagues inland in the first hour. They lost the help of the tide thereafter, though, and the wind lessened, slowing them to under two knots over the ground by Terryll’s reckoning. The wind held steady, at least, and the river was wide, so most of the crew sat idly by while the helmsman did most of the work. Terryll kept one man in the crow’s nest to lookout for fallen trees or anything else large coming downriver, and another man at the prow looking through a polished stone of yellow quartz to cut the glare off the water and spot submerged boulders.
Several hours into the voyage, the Earl’s squire came out onto deck to summon Terryll below. Black Zefferus had only two cabins, one belonging to Terryll and the other to the first mate, but on this voyage Alwyn had given up his cabin to the Earl. Even located beneath the stern castle—the tallest part of the ship—both cabins were small, and when Terryll entered the first mate’s cabin where the Earl and Basilides awaited him, there was barely enough room for the three of them at once.
“My lord,” Terryll greeted the Earl. “It’s mighty cramped in here. You are free to join me on deck if you prefer.”
“No, we’ll talk here in private.”
Terryll didn’t like the edge in the Earl’s voice. “Is there trouble, my lord?”
“Nothing serious, but something you should be aware of.”
“Aye?”
“This vassal of mine—Lord Klaye—we believe he has a girl with him onboard.”
Terryll’s jaw muscles tightened at the mention of Lord Klaye’s name. He recognized it from the Minx’s Den. “A girl?”
“She’s dressed as a boy, and he claims her to be his nephew, but the leech is certain she’s a girl.” The Earl nodded for Basilides to speak.
“I watched her very closely before we boarded, Captain,” Basilides explained. “It is evident in the way she walks, her eyebrows are too thin, even for a young effeminate boy, and the clothes she wears are purposely large, a guise to conceal her femininity, I’m certain.”
“A whore, no doubt,” the Earl said. “I can’t imagine what sort of noblemen he must be if he need sneak a whore around with him while at war. Unfortunately, we’re somewhat at his mercy. The man is my guide once we disembark.”
“What is it you mean to do, my lord?”
“Nothing for now. If Klaye wants to keep up his charade and hide her while we’re onboard, all the better. You just make sure you keep your men clear of him. And her. Sailors are known for taking certain liberties with women, and I’ll not have her raped, even if she is a whore. When my men and I disembark, I will try to convince him to leave her with you onboard—I don’t need the hindrance of dragging around a whore—but I’ll expect you to vouch for her safety at least back to North Port.”
“My men don’t rape women, my lord. You have my word that she will be safe in my care. She’ll be much safer than he.”
“Very good then, Captain. That is all.”
Terryll bowed and exited wordlessly.
“I believe I offended the good captain by suggesting his men were rapists,” the Earl said.
“I’m not so sure,” Basilides remarked. “He grew wary before you said anything of rape, from the moment you mentioned Lord Klaye…and the girl.”
“The captain is a wary man and loyal to me, which is all the better for him considering his line of work, and it’s more than I can say for Lord Klaye—that man is a nuisance.” The Earl sighed and lowered himself onto the slender bunk. “I will rest now. Leave me.”
“Of course,” Basilides agreed, but he paused at th
e cabin door.
“What is it, leech?”
“My lord, about last night. I apologize for revealing your melancholic lung to the Lord Chancellor. I did not realize it might undermine your authority or perceived power. In retrospect, I see it would have benefited you had I lied, though it is not my way.”
The Earl smiled. “I would not have asked your opinion if I didn’t want Galkmeer to hear what you had to say, Basilides.”
“You wanted him to know, my lord?”
“It is sometimes a great advantage to be perceived as being weaker than you truly are, leech.”
Basilides nodded. “Indeed, my lord.”
“All’s going well?” Terryll asked Alwyn back on deck.
“Aye, Cap’n,” Alwyn barked. “The wind is holding steady, but I don’t know for how much longer. Kipp says he sees storm clouds coming down from the north.”
Terryll glanced up at Kipp atop the mainmast in the crow’s nest. “Keep an eye on it. I’m heading to the hold. Have Palomo stand at the hatch and be ready to heed my call if I holler for him.”
Terryll loosened the curtelaxe at his belt.
All the humor disappeared from Alwyn’s face. “Trouble, Cap’n?”
“I’m about to find out.”
Lyrie pretended to be asleep and paid no heed to the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Lord Klaye was sleeping beside her and most of the Earl’s men too were asleep. The few who were awake sat in a circle playing dice in the dim light from the candle lanterns on the walls. Everild sat next to Lyrie, gouging dirt from beneath his fingernails with a dagger. The man never seemed to sleep.
“What are you playing for, lads?” Terryll asked from the foot of the ladder.
Lyrie’s eyes shot open at hearing his voice.
“Copper bits,” one of the soldiers responded. “If you have any, we’ll be happy to take them from you.”
Terryll chuckled, but Lyrie could tell it was a forced laugh. He was stalling, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness and scanning the hold. “The rest of the land lubbers are comfortable, I take it,” he said. “They’re all sleeping.”
“It’s better than sleeping in the mud and rain,” another of the soldiers remarked.
Terryll stepped deeper into the hold. Lyrie didn’t move, nor push the liripipe back from her face, but Terryll recognized her.
“You the boy I saw get on board?” he asked, stepping forward. “How’d you like to go up on deck and try your hand at being a sailor for a while?”
“Sorry, Captain, but he stays inside,” Everild said before Lyrie could respond. He didn’t seem to recognize Terryll, although Terryll recognized him well enough.
“Surely, a little fresh air will do the lad some good. You can come along, if you’d like.”
“I said the boy stays inside.”
Lord Klaye stirred beside Lyrie. “What’s all the cursed noise about?”
“The captain would like to take your nephew on a tour of the ship, my lord,” Everild said flatly.
“What?” Lord Klaye propped himself up. “No, my apologies Captain, but my nephew stays at my side at all times. Now scurry off. I’m trying to sleep.”
Terryll’s jaw tightened and his hand inched towards his curtelaxe. Lyrie’s eyes bulged and she mouthed “no” to him. She glanced quickly at Everild to see if he had noticed, but he was back to picking his fingernails and seemed content to leave the matter to Lord Klaye who had already laid his head back down.
Lyrie looked back up at Terryll and mouthed for him to go. She could see that he was not happy, but he turned away and left the hold.
“Lyrie?” Alwyn asked. “Your favorite whore Lyrie?”
“Aye,” Terryll said, pacing small circles in his cabin.
“I wouldn’t have expected her to be the type of whore one would drag off to war. Not after how you spoke of her.”
“She’s not. None of Nedra’s girls are, and Nedra would never let one of her girls go. He must have stolen her away, then snuck her onboard a ship in Gaulang.”
Alwyn frowned. “Do you mean to do something? I can slit the little bardache’s throat and throw him overboard the first time he comes up to piss.”
“No, the Earl specifically told me to let him be. Right now we just wait. The Earl plans on leaving her with us when they disembark. If all goes well, we do nothing, but if this Klaye causes any more trouble… Balin’s sac! If he’s harmed her I’ll rip his tripe out his throat.”
“She must have a sweet cunny for you to get so worked up over her, Cap’n.”
“Everything about her is sweet, Alwyn. She doesn’t belong here. Not in this damned war, not in those boy’s clothes, not even on this ship. I know it sounds daft saying this of a whore, but she’s innocent. She’s…”
“I understand you, Cap’n.”
Terryll nodded. “Good. Thank you. Don’t tell the men any of this, but let them know trouble’s afoot and to be on their guard. There’ll be blood before this is all done, I’m afraid.”
When twilight approached, Terryll ordered his crew to drop sail and lay anchor in a crook near the western bank of the river where the current was slow moving. By his estimation, they had sailed eight leagues inland over land. The offshore breeze had held most of the day and they had made good time—better than Terryll could have hoped—but the wind had shifted and now dark clouds came upon them from the north, threatening more rain and unpredictable winds.
Once they were anchored and the sails battened down, Terryll sent word to the Earl that his soldiers could come on deck. Terryll watched from the stern castle as the whole lot of them came up from the cargo hold to stretch and piss over the rails. The Earl came up to piss and then joined Terryll at the stern castle with Basilides. There was no sign of Lyrie nor Lord Klaye, however. Everild came on deck, but only for a moment before going back into the hold. Terryll watched him, but said nothing. He had considered telling the Earl he knew Lyrie and suspected she had been stolen away, but he didn’t figure the Earl would care one way or the other, and so kept silent with the hope Lyrie would be left onboard when the Earl disembarked.
“How do we fare for the morrow?” the Earl asked after some time.
Terryll eyed the darkening sky. “Depends on the weather, my lord. This storm is coming from the north and that means we’ll be heading straight into it. If there’s enough wind and it holds steady it’ll be a day of beating to windward and we should make good time; if not, we paddle. We’ve about four leagues to go still to reach your Gildan’s Sprite. If we have to paddle we might make it by this time tomorrow.”
“That will be good enough, Captain, as long as I’m there before the morning after tomorrow.”
“We’ll make it, my lord, but you may have some weary soldiers if we’re forced to row.”
“They’re stout men, they’ll survive.”
The first raindrops began falling on them, and Basilides stepped toward the Earl. “We should get you below deck now, my lord.”
“Indeed. I fear we’ll all become soaked enough on our march to come. Good day, Captain.”
Terryll nodded and watched the Earl go. The Earl’s men seemed not to mind the rain and loitered about on deck, but Terryll still saw no sign of Lyrie or Lord Klaye. He gritted his teeth in frustration. He was not one to sit idly by and let things happen, but he didn’t see anything that could be done but wait, and it infuriated him. Lord Klaye was not likely to harm Lyrie while onboard with all the Earl’s men nearby, but Terryll couldn’t be sure. He decided he could at least post a watch on deck throughout the night to keep an eye on things, and went to find Alwyn to make it happen.
A dozen different snores echoed through the cargo hold. Lyrie watched Lord Klaye toss and turn and finally sit up after an hour or more of fidgeting in his sleep. Neither of them had gone up on deck to relieve themselves since boarding and Lyrie felt near to bursting. She had resisted asking Everild, knowing he would keep a tighter reign on her, and was determined to hold out until Lord Klaye himself
had to go up on deck.
“Are you going up to piss?” Lyrie whispered.
“What’s it to you?”
“I have to go too.”
Everild was suddenly awake, sitting up beside them. “I’ll go, my lord.”
Lord Klaye waved his hand at him. “Go back to sleep. I’ll take her…him.”
Everild said nothing, but Lyrie could see his eyes in the dark and knew that he thought better of letting her go alone with Lord Klaye. She didn’t wait for him to protest further. She hopped up and stepped between the sleeping soldiers to the ladder and up onto the deck, leaving Lord Klaye to follow.
It was raining gently and with the cloud cover it was nearly as dark outside as below deck. Lyrie hurried to the railing and dropped her britches to piss into the river water below. As she sat there, hanging over the rail, she saw that all of the sailors were sleeping up on the stern castle deck and that one of them was standing watch, looking right at her. Her heart skipped a beat for a moment—unless he thought her to be shitting over the side, he would know she was a girl—but then she decided she didn’t care if he knew. He was Terryll’s man, and if she wasn’t mistaken, it was Terryll’s first mate and he probably already knew.
Either way, Lord Klaye was oblivious to the sailors and merely stood by bleary-eyed watching Lyrie finish pissing. “Go below,” he said when she was done.
“You don’t want me to wait for you?”
“I have to shit. I don’t need you watching me.”
Lyrie moved away and he watched her only for a moment before dropping his trousers and pulling himself up onto the ship rail. Lyrie glanced back once to make sure he wasn’t paying attention, then climbed down the ladder to the aft cabins instead of the cargo hold. At the bottom of the steps she stopped to listen for signs that she had roused anyone. There were only the sounds of the boat rocking, though, so she grabbed the door latch to Terryll’s cabin and pushed it open as slowly as she could manage. When it was open enough for her to squeeze through she slipped inside and turned to let the door close in the same manner, but suddenly found a dagger at her throat.