Faithful Heart (The Von Wolfenberg Dynasty Book 3)

by Anna Markland

  Her steersman smiled briefly, though he seemed troubled. The crew added their loud agreement, but the hubbub quieted as the ship came about and they watched the wave ahead of them grow rapidly into a wall of water taller than any ship. It loomed over Zante like an avenging angel.

  “We must hope he isn’t on the beach,” Jakov said hoarsely.

  “Nor on the ship,” she murmured.

  “The tar pits are a little further inland,” Lupomari offered. “If he is there…”

  “Drop anchor,” Rospo urged.

  She echoed his order, mortified that her single-minded determination to aid Kon had again put others in danger. They were close enough to the beach now to make out a vessel directly in the path of the giant wave.

  She watched in growing horror as the angry sea smashed into the island, picking up the ship and hurling it against the cliff like a child’s plaything.

  “No one could survive such a catastrophe,” Lupomari said gruffly.

  “Kon,” she sobbed, knowing all hope was gone.

  ~~~

  Propelled by sheer terror over the side of the Feloz, Kon followed Menas, running back into the trees as fast as the shackles allowed. Sand and grass stuck to the wet tar on the soles of his feet and actually helped him keep his balance in the uneven terrain.

  His heart pounded in his ears, louder than the sound of trees and rocks being mowed down by the oncoming surge. Breathless, they rushed into the clearing, astonished to see the rowers who’d survived sitting huddled together in the shed.

  “Run,” Menas shouted, but it was too late. The wave overtook them. They were lifted off their feet and carried along on a raging river of uprooted trees, branches, planks, plants and animals—some dead, others struggling to keep their heads above water.

  Kon was dragged under more than once. He managed to surface after each terrifying dunking, but his endurance was ebbing. He accepted it was only a matter of time before he drowned.

  He vaguely heard a shout over the din. Not too far away, Menas had entangled his chains in the branches of a floating tree. Recognizing it as his only hope, he struck out, fighting his way through the debris until his hand grasped a limb. With a final effort he crawled closer to the tree, tangled the chain of his manacles in the limbs, gripped the trunk with his thighs and reached out to clasp Menas’s outstretched hand.

  “Pray for me, Zara,” he gasped, surrendering his fate to God and the rushing torrent.

  TURNING BLUE

  The Pravda bobbed at anchor a safe distance from the peaceful shore. The island looked as idyllic as ever, apart from the ominous dust cloud hanging over the now barren cliffs. Earthquakes were one of the few things Zara had feared since her father told her of the phenomenon. Having now witnessed first-hand the awesome forces unleashed when the earth moved, terror had rendered her incapable of thought or movement.

  She was aware the crew were waiting for her command to pull in to the island, but the prospect of setting foot on Zante conjured her Papa’s warnings of aftershocks…

  She startled when Jakov touched her elbow. “You must overcome your fear, Zara. For Kon’s sake. If he’s still alive, he won’t last long without our help.”

  “How can he have survived?” she retorted, gesturing to the splintered wreckage on the beach. “It’s evident there are no signs of life. If the earthquake didn’t kill him, the storm surge…”

  The words died in her grief-tightened throat.

  Silent minutes passed before he spoke again. “I knew the moment my son’s soul was taken into heaven,” he told her, his voice hoarse with emotion. He pressed a clenched fist to his chest. “I felt the bond break.” He took hold of her trembling hands. “You and Konrad share a bond. Look into your heart. It will sense if he is dead.”

  She gripped his warm hand, inhaled a ragged breath and closed her eyes.

  “Tell me what you see,” he said.

  At first there was only the dark, disturbing image of a ship tossed against a cliff. First the Feloz, then the Pravda, then her beloved Nunziata. She cried out her anguish as one after another the vessels broke against the rock. Then another vision slowly intruded. She opened her eyes. “Chains. He’s chained.”

  “Yes,” Jakov replied patiently, “we expected he’d be chained on the ship.”

  She closed her eyes again, searching. The mist cleared. “No, he’s chained to a tree.”

  “A tree?”

  She nodded. “An olive tree.”

  “Mayhap he was enlisted to haul tar,” Lupomari offered. “He’d have passed through the olive grove.”

  She frowned, not sure of what appeared next. “His feet are black.”

  Jakov pecked a kiss on her forehead. “Bravely done! We must search at the tarpits.”

  A different, more vivid image arose to rob her of breath. She opened her eyes wide and shook her head vigorously. “No. He has turned blue.”

  Jakov eyed her, clearly suspecting she had delved too deeply into the world of visions. “With cold?”

  She laughed and turned to Rospo. “Kon Wolf has turned blue, my friend,” she exclaimed.

  “Ha!” he shouted, rushing off to man the tiller.

  “Set a course for the west side of the island,” she told the gaping Lupomari. “I know where he is.”

  ~~~

  The constant drip, drip of water woke Kon. The memory of the desperate effort to hold on to the tree slowly drifted into his wits. He absently rubbed the grit out of one eye and realized his chains still held him to the branches of the floating trunk. But where was he?

  When he put his hand back in the water, it instantly turned blue. Startled, he hastily removed it, relieved to see the normal color return.

  Fearing he was in some cavernous antechamber to heaven, or mayhap hell, he raised his aching head. Menas was still attached to the tree, but didn’t seem to be awake. The parts of his body in the water were also blue, not black.

  Kon had believed death came in a moment, but perhaps it was a slow process, a journey they hadn’t yet completed. They were somewhere between life and death, a place where all men were made the same.

  He risked peering into the clear depths, but couldn’t see bottom. There appeared to be no ledges jutting from the sheer walls towering above him. Fear of drowning in the blue abyss constricted his throat, but if it was part of the journey…

  Menas stirred and blinked open one eye.

  “We’re nearly there,” Kon said hoarsely.

  “Where?”

  “Heaven, I hope.”

  Menas raised his head and looked at his hands in the water. “Nonsense. We’re in the Blue Cave.”

  “Right. We are slowly turning blue. It must be a waterway to the Almighty.”

  Menas stared at him. “You’ve evidently suffered a blow to the head, Konrad. In your studies of religion did you ever read of a blue waterway to heaven?”

  He hesitated, admitting the notion did sound foolish. “No, but…”

  “Have your tarred feet turned blue?”

  Kon twisted to look at his feet in the water. They were blue except for the black soles. “Huh!” was the only remark that came to mind.

  A smile tugged at the corners of Menas’s lips. “The torrent must have carried us to the other side of the southern tip of the island. It’s where the Blue Cave is. Zara’s father told me he brought her here once.”

  A certainty washed over him. The woman he loved had been in this very cave before and she was close now.

  He filled his lungs. “Zara,” he bellowed, “I’m in the Blue Cave.”

  “Not too loud,” Menas admonished as the cavern echoed his shout. “The earthquake may have loosened parts of the ceiling.”

  Chastened, Kon looked up. “Mayhap we should steer the tree to the opening.”

  “If we venture beyond the cave, the tide may carry us out into the Ionian Sea and they’ll never find us.”

  “You believe they are searching?”

  “I’m confident they are,
but I hope they come before nightfall. We might freeze to death in here.”

  ~~~

  The Pravda’s rowboat was lowered to the tranquil sea. Rospo and Jakov climbed down the rope ladder.

  From the deck, Zara looked across at the low opening of the cave she remembered from long ago. If her father had never brought her here, she wouldn’t have known where to look for Kon. It was a miracle long in the making. “I don’t see why I can’t come,” she shouted down to the two men.

  Jakov looked up. “Look. Kon may be badly injured, or worse. We’ll hope for the best, but we must be prepared.”

  She sensed their worry Kon might not be happy to see her, since she had caused his torment. “Do you have the blankets?” she asked, knowing full well they did.

  “I have everything,” Jakov replied, “including my trusty adze and chisel.”

  “I thought it was just an adze?”

  He shrugged. “I added to my collection. Drosik isn’t going to miss it.”

  CHAINED FOREVER

  Kon drifted in and out of sleep, vaguely aware each time he woke that more and more of his body was turning blue. When the water chilled his manhood, it gradually dawned on him he was naked. “The torrent tore off my loincloth,” he muttered.

  “Mine too,” Menas replied hoarsely. “I’ve got blue balls.”

  Kon glanced down at his groin, chuckling at the strange sight he beheld. “Me too,” he exclaimed.

  The dire situation suddenly struck him as hysterically funny. He wondered how many men appeared before God on the Day of Reckoning with such colorful…

  Menas was barely visible in the growing darkness but he sensed his friend’s scowl. “I can’t stop laughing,” he confessed.

  “Sleep,” Menas commanded. “The tree is becoming waterlogged. Mayhap if we are asleep when we drown it will be easier.”

  It was the first time he’d detected defeat and resignation in his friend’s voice. It jolted him out of his hysteria. He forced his chilled arms to move in the water, paddling the tree towards the dwindling light at the cave’s mouth. “I don’t plan to die here when Zara is close at hand.”

  Menas turned away. “Want to show off your blue balls, eh?”

  Kon clenched his jaw. The staunch comrade who had seen him through many trials and saved his life more than once was succumbing to the madness of despair. He couldn’t allow it. “Wake up. Help me,” he urged, splashing water on Menas. “Paddle to the light.”

  The Nubian made a half-hearted effort to move one arm in the water. “No one is coming,” he whispered.

  Kon hit the surface with the flat of his hand, drenching his friend again and filling the cave with the sounds of splashing water. “Help me.”

  Menas raised his head. “Hush. Hush. Did you hear that?”

  There was a trace of expectancy in the Nubian’s voice. With difficulty, Kon steadied his breathing and listened.

  The incessant dripping went on; the pounding of his own heart filled his ears. But on the still air came the unmistakable sound of oar blades dipped in water, their wooden shafts grinding on tholes. A man’s voice echoed off the cave’s ceiling. “Konrad…Konrad.”

  His joy threatened to choke him. “Over here,” he managed hoarsely. “We’re over here.”

  He narrowed his eyes as a shape loomed. A rowboat.

  “Thank God,” the voice said.

  Kon peered up at the face grinning at him. “Jakov?”

  “Aye, and Rospo. And I see you’ve a shipmate aboard your leafy vessel.”

  “His name is Menas, a fellow slave. Is Zara with you?”

  Jakov hesitated. “No. She was afraid you might be angry.”

  Did he mean she was still in Termoli, or had she gone back to Venezia? And why would he be angry with her? Before he could put his thoughts into words, Jakov rushed on. “I see you are firmly attached to the tree. Safest is to tow you out of the cave and get those irons off on board the ship. Agreed?”

  Menas evidently understood yet another language. “You are angels sent from God.”

  Rospo’s unmistakable face appeared next over the side of the boat. Jaw clenched, he stretched out a hand holding a rope, but said nothing, his gaze fixed on the eerie water.

  Kon wound the end of the rope around his frozen hand. “Ready.”

  Their rescuers pulled on the oars, dragging the tree towards the entrance of the cave.

  Kon murmured a prayer of grateful thanks he had escaped death yet again. Had he been granted life in order to wed Zara? Or would he be punished for his disbelief? He fervently hoped when he was taken aboard the rescue ship, she would be there to welcome him back to life.

  ~~~

  Digging her fingernails into the railing of the forecastle, Zara stared at the opening of the cave for so long in the gathering darkness, everything became blurry.

  At first she wasn’t sure if it was the rowboat she espied coming towards the Pravda, then her spirits plummeted when she counted only two men in the boat. “They haven’t found him,” she murmured to Lupomari who stood next to her. “I was certain.”

  The captain leaned forward, as if to see more clearly. “Don’t lose hope yet. They are towing something.”

  She narrowed her eyes, trying to see what he had seen. “Is it a raft?”

  He shook his head. “No. A tree, I think.”

  Hope raced in her heart, but impatience tugged. The rowers were fighting the incoming tide and seemed to be making no headway.

  Lupomari called for hands to come to the aid of the rowboat as it finally bumped alongside. “There are two men lying on the tree,” he exclaimed. “One of them black.”

  Black? Not Kon then.

  A pulse throbbed in her throat. “Is it Kon?” she shouted down to Jakov.

  Rospo’s rare grin calmed her fears.

  The man lying face down on the tree-raft slowly turned his head to look up and a thousand winged creatures fluttered in her belly. As long as she lived she would never forget the endearing sight of Kon’s white backside glowing in the light of the rising moon.

  ~~~

  His endurance at an end, and confident his rescue was in good hands, Kon lay still while Jakov and Rospo undertook the delicate process of untangling him and Menas from the raft. He sensed other members of the crew had taken to the water and were holding the tree in place, assisting with the task.

  He had a vague notion the ship was the Ragusa, but couldn’t reconcile in his weary mind how that could be.

  Menas was hauled aboard the rowboat first, then helped up the rope ladder. The tree dipped alarmingly without his comrade’s weight to balance it, but Kon remained calm, despite coming close to being submerged. The prospect of climbing the ladder was daunting, but the certainty it was Zara who had peered over the side and called his name renewed his strength.

  His nakedness was of concern. He wanted Zara’s first sight of his body to be…well, not like this, beaten, starved, smeared with tar and half-drowned. God in his bounty had been generous with his male endowments. The shrivelled appendage between his legs was far from impressive now.

  Strong hands and encouraging voices got him safely into the rowboat. They steadied his hips as he clamped his trembling hands on either side of the rough rope ladder. Filled with apprehension and shivering with cold, he gritted his teeth, put one foot on the bottom rung and began the shaky climb. Jakov climbed right behind him, saying nothing, but keeping one hand on his back. He braced Kon’s waist as Lupomari helped him over the side. Someone threw a warm blanket over his trembling shoulders. He gathered it tightly to his body, teeth chattering, eyes searching desperately for one person.

  Finally, he saw her standing nearby. Uncharacteristically hesitant. Was it true she feared his wrath? She looked so bereft, he wanted to reassure her, but he had to be sure she loved him, even at his worst. He opened his arms as wide as the chain allowed and spoke her name. “Zara.”

  She stooped beneath the chain, put her arms around his waist, pressed her body t
o his and sobbed on his shoulder. He folded the blanket around her and nuzzled his nose in her hair, inhaling deeply of Zara’s unique aroma.

  Salt, sea, woman.

  He gently tightened the chain, pulling her closer. “You are mine, and I will never let you go,” he growled.

  Her warmth chased away the chill. His rute stirred pleasantly, putting a welcome end to any worries on that score. His knees were of greater concern. “I need to sit,” he said hoarsely, “and I am getting you wet.”

  Her eyes brimming with tears, she leaned back again the restraint, pressing her hips to his arousal. She folded the blanket back around him and raked his wet hair off his face. “Hear my confession first,” she whispered. “My pigheadedness was the cause of your suffering.”

  “I love your pigheadedness,” he replied, holding onto her shoulders for support, filled with a comforting premonition he would always be able to rely on her strength.

  She fisted her hands in the blanket. “And I love you. Now you must rest. The men will help you to the bed we’ve readied.”

  Certain now of her love, his confidence in the future blossomed. Zara was indeed the grail he’d been seeking. She and a black man he’d encountered by chance had helped him rediscover who he was. “Is Menas the Nubian safe?” he asked as two crewmen took him by the arms.

  She stepped back under the chain. “Menas?”

  “My comrade.”

  “The man rescued with you is Menas of Nubia?”

  “Yes. He saved my life more than once.”

  She looked at him curiously. “He was a partner in several of my father’s African business ventures.”

  “He told me he knew your father. It was he kept the hope alive that you would come.”

  “My father described him as a man of great faith, but it cannot be him.”

  “Why not?”

  “He died three years ago.”

  A SORRY TALE

  Kon took Zara’s hand. “I admit there were times when I thought I had lost my wits, but I can assure you my comrade is Menas of Nubia. Come with me and you’ll see.”

  Buoyed by the strength of his calloused grasp, even after his ordeal, she went willingly as the crewmen helped him walk to beneath the stern-castle.