The First Sin

by Jessica Brawner

  "Thank you, mon chéri."

  Suddenly someone grabbed me from behind. My elbows were pinned together by strong hands. I was whirled around and wrestled up against the wall, my face pressed against the rough stone surface. Reacting on instinct I stamped down with the hard heel of my boot on the instep of my assailant. I felt a satisfying crunch and the man cursed and loosened his grip. I hooked my right foot behind his knee and threw my entire bodyweight backwards, overbalancing him and landing on his sternum with my elbow. I punched him in the crotch before rolling offf and coming up in a low crouch. The man was wearing blue and gold, curled up in a fetal position, gasping for breath. Three men had grabbed David. I slid my boot dagger out of its sheath as one hit David across the back of the head with a small club. Before I could see more, rough hands wrestled me back and someone pulled a sack down over my head and cinched it closed. I reversed my dagger and stabbed backwards and up and was rewarded by a yelp of pain. “She’s a wildcat this one! A little help over here,” a male voice behind me shouted.

  I still had hold of my dagger but couldn’t see with the sack on my head. It smelled strongly of onions, and blocked out the light. Trying to claw it free with one hand, I waved the dagger in front of me. Someone kicked me in the back of the knee and I went down, rolling on my shoulder. I felt my dagger connect, but not hard enough to do any real damage. “Grab her arm, get that fucking knife away from her.”

  I felt a booted foot step on my forearm and someone grabbed my arm on the other side, holding it extended so that I couldn’t move. A sharp blow to my wrist made my hand go numb and I felt my fingers loosening on the dagger. “Tie her up. Make sure she’s secure.”

  I screamed when I felt myself picked up and thrown roughly over someone's shoulder, anything to draw attention. “Help!” I shouted.

  My assailant, this one at least, was wearing body armor, and his shoulder digging into my diaphragm knocked the wind out of me. I kicked and struggled, mostly bruising my knees and elbows. I heard someone in the marketplace scream. And a loud voice ordering people out of the way. "We're here on Rome's business, and this is a wanted criminal. She is quite dangerous. Do not interfere."

  Closer to my ear, I heard, "Oy, you settle down you, or I'll have to be rough with you."

  "You put me down, or I'll see to it you die." I gasped as his armored shoulder drove into my stomach again.

  The man laughed. "That’s not very likely. Now you just be still until we get where we’re going. I've got someone who very much wants to talk to you." He patted my backside, holding me securely, chuckling at my attempts to escape. Fury coursed through me, and my face flamed with heat.

  It wasn't long before we left the noises of the marketplace behind. I continued to struggle, forcing him to move me from shoulder to shoulder while I tried to wrench my arms free so that I could reach the dagger at his waist when someone hit me in the back of the head, and everything went dark.

  Jacqueline

  Iwoke up feeling sick, head throbbing. I was lying on my side on a hard, wooden surface. My hands were bound together, burlap pressed close around my face.

  Light filtered dimly through the loosely woven sack, but I couldn't tell much about my surroundings. The faint, solitary light source suggested a vast space in the resultant darkness.

  The bindings around my wrists were thin and strong. Picking at them, there didn't seem to be anything to unravel. Flexing my arms and wrists I tried to break the thin line but only forced the bindings to cut into my wrists.

  Sounds were muffled by the sack, but I didn't hear anyone nearby. I rose to my feet, feeling woozy and off-balance. The world spun, but I planted my feet solidly and willed it to stop. That only seemed to make things spin faster and my feet collapsed under me.

  "Merde." I swore softly. "David? Are you here?" There was no answer. My voice echoed eerily in the space, and with each passing moment my fury grew. I replayed the scene in the marketplace, but I hadn't gotten a good look at the men who grabbed us, just the impression of blue and gold. I had no idea if they had killed David, taken him as well, or left him unconscious in the middle of the market.

  Anger coiled in my stomach and stayed there. I tried standing again and was rewarded with a strong desire to throw up. My head continued to pound, and my mouth felt fuzzy and dry. I inched one foot in front of the other, sweating with the effort of remaining standing as the room spun. Ever so slowly I drew a map of the cell in my head. It was approximately six feet wide by eight feet long, and there were no walls. Just bars. Hence the feeling of space. There was a slight sway, a familiar back and forth. I was in a cage in the hold of an airship.

  I sat down in the center of the cell and closed my eyes, gathering my strength and formulating a plan for whatever came next.

  Hours later I heard footsteps and tensed. My hands had gone numb from lack of circulation and at some point, I had dozed off. I inched myself back to the back of the cell, whimpering and cringing, pretending to be more hurt than I was. The guard chuckled. “Not so tough now are you,” he said as I heard the cell door open. When I felt his breath on my face, I bashed my head forward, feeling the satisfying crunch of his nose. Cursing he backed up.

  I felt hands grab me through the bars and an arm snaked around my neck tightly cutting off air. Gasping for air, blackness filled my vision.

  "She's a feisty one," a deep male voice said as I heard him enter the cell.

  "Well what would you expect from someone with her reputation?" another male voice, higher this time, replied. "Here, this will quiet her down."

  That was all the warning I got before one of them drove his fist into my stomach. It was unexpected, and I gasped in pain. The arm choking me let go and I slid down the bars. Tears leaked from my eyes as I tried not to throw up, gasping and choking. A booted foot kicked me, and I cried out.

  "Here now. Enough. She still has to be able to speak when we take her up." The first voice said, cautioning the other man.

  He grunted and grabbed the back of my shirt, standing me on my feet. I started to collapse again, and he caught me by the back of the shirt. "On your feet! I'm not going to carry you."

  They stood me up between the two of them and marched me out of the cell. I still couldn't see, and tripped and stumbled. "Stairs," one of them said as I banged my shin and pitched forward onto the staircase.

  He sighed and grabbed me by the back of the shirt, pulling me up. "Come on. Up."

  It wasn't a very long staircase. At the top I could feel a strong wind on my face, and through the fine mesh of the bag I could see a small patch of blue sky. Based on the sounds, the wind, and the sound of machinery I guessed my earlier assessment was correct. We were on an airship, and we were underway.

  They turned and marched me through a doorway. We walked a few feet in, and one of the guards put a hand on my shoulder and pushed me roughly down into a chair.

  "Sir. You were right, they were holed up on one of the islands. The Dreadnought pointed us truly, and your plan went near perfectly. While in town we managed to apprehend the notorious Captain of the airship Indiana, Captain Jac."

  “Nearly perfectly?” I heard the note of inquiry in an all too familiar voice. The guards relayed our encounter in brief, noting that I had injured one of their men, and that they had left the man accompanying me unconscious and bleeding in the marketplace. Relief and anger both suffused me. David had been alive when they left him but leaving the Dreadnought in one piece had given us away.

  “Ah, very well, thank you. You have done well. I’ll see to your reward. You are dismissed.”

  “Sir, are you certain you want us to leave? She just broke Jonathan’s nose, and Sergei had to forcibly restrain her just to get her out of the cell.”

  “Thank you for letting me know. I will take precautions. You may go.” Charles said.

  “Thank you, sir!” Their response was crisp and formal, and I imagined them clicking their heels together and saluting behind me before turning to go. I heard the click
of the latch on the door, and the onion sack was suddenly removed. Taking a deep breath, I found myself blinking and staring into the angry golden eyes of Charles, Captain of the Pope's personal guard. “You disappoint me, Contessa.”

  Merde. He knows who I am.

  “Captain Jac.” He stared at me for a long moment. “Also known as Contessa Jacqueline de Valois, whom I have met on several occasions.” He sighed and looked less pleased than I expected, given that he’d been trying to capture me for nearly a month.

  “I had hoped it wasn’t true, but I see fate wishes me to suffer for my hubris.”

  His last remark made no sense to me, so I chose to ignore it. As the Contessa, Charles and I had spent time pleasantly, so I chose to approach from that direction, fluttering my eyelashes at him appealingly and raising my voice to a slightly higher, more feminine pitch. “Charles, it is so nice to see you again, though the circumstances are not what I would prefer. Perhaps you might loosen these ties? They do cut cruelly tight.”

  I kept my tone even and leaned forward, indicating my bound hands. They were swollen and bloody, my fingers discolored from lack of circulation. Charles blanched and gasped in horror. I felt a knife slide between my hands and the bindings. The bonds snapped and I slumped forward, coughing. I still couldn't feel my hands. Everything below the wrist felt numb and wooden. Charles strode to the door and opened it, speaking to someone outside.

  "Get the surgeon in here immediately," he snapped. A murmured reply was all I could hear.

  “You are a prisoner, but I will treat you as the noblewoman you pretend to be. For the moment. What other damage have you suffered?” It pained him to ask, I could see that. He wasn’t sure then. If I was a noblewoman or a privateer, and he wanted to cover all contingencies. I could use that.

  "Bruises, a cracked rib, an awful headache, and..." I held my hands out for display.

  Charles winced to see them. “Notorious Captain or not, they should not treat a woman in custody this way. Where is that surgeon?" he muttered fervently.

  The man in question appeared shortly thereafter. "You called for me, sir?"

  "Please treat the Contessa and examine her thoroughly. Her hands in particular need attention, also she has taken a blow to the temple and perhaps more. She is a prisoner, but to be treated as one of noble birth."

  “Aye sir.” The surgeon nodded. He stood there, waiting and Charles looked at him askance.

  “What are you waiting for?”

  “Sir. The lady will want some privacy for this examination,” the surgeon said.

  Charles looked pained. “I think not. She has already proven that she can dispatch trained guards, Simon. I’m afraid it would not be safe for you, noblewoman or not.”

  “Charles,” I said, looking up at him through lowered lashes. “I’m on your airship, surrounded by your men. Where could I go?”

  He ignored me. “Two guards. Examine her. Report to me when you are done.”

  Charles stepped out of the room and sent two men in. I heard the click of the lock as a key was turned. From the rigid correctness and squared shoulders of his back I could tell he was angry.

  Simon, as I learned he was called, worked efficiently, ignoring the two guards. He cleaned the wounds on my wrists and examining my fingers. Circulation was starting to return, and it felt like a thousand tiny pins were pricking my skin. Looking at my ribs he declared them bruised but not broken and wrapped them tightly.

  "Your fingers will be fine, but they’re going to hurt quite a bit as the circulation returns. Give it a day or so, and you should have full mobility back." He poured something in s small glass and handed it to me.

  "Here, drink this. It will help with the discomfort."

  I looked at the glass askance, holding it lightly in my tingling hand. Bringing it to my nose I smelled nothing but fine brandy.

  “Drink it, or don’t. It makes very little difference to me,” Simon said with some impatience.

  I nodded and drank it down. “Thank you, Monsieur for your kindness.”

  “I do you no kindness, merely what my oath demands,” he replied. I felt neither animosity nor liking in his reply, only a statement of fact as he saw it.

  Jacqueline

  Jacqueline,

  Despite these unfortunate circumstances, it is my hope you will consider joining me for dinner this evening in my cabin. I wish to hear your story. One of the crew will come to collect you at seven o’clock.

  Charles

  I took the time to try and make myself more presentable. I let down my hair and brushed it out with a brush I found in the small bureau. In the scuffle, I had lost a number of my jeweled hairpins, but found that I had three remaining. And one of them held a dose of Henri’s sleeping serum.

  Beyond straightening my clothes and redoing my hair there wasn't much I could do about my appearance. Examining myself in the mirror I winced at the dark, purpling bruise on my temple.

  Simon, the surgeon, tapped politely on my door before entering. Two guards accompanied us to Charles’s cabin. His room, much like mine on The Indiana, was built both for function and for the entertainment of guests. He had a small dining table set up with two place settings, and was standing behind one chair, ready to pull it out for me.

  "Jacqueline, I'm so glad you could join me. Please, have a seat." There was no sarcasm or mocking in his voice, just controlled courtesy. Charles gestured to the chair and pulled it out slightly. I could see his anger under the surface, held tightly in check.

  A roast chicken sat in the center of the table, with a bottle of wine and a small plate of seasoned vegetables. The smell of fresh bread wafted over everything. I ignored the proffered seat, standing in the center of the room until Simon had withdrawn.

  “Where are you taking me?” I asked, in my contessa voice, higher pitched and younger sounding than I was wont to use in most circumstances. I was certain I knew the answer already.

  “Should I call you Captain Jac, or Contessa Jacqueline?” he countered, and I could see the hurt in his eyes. He strode across the few feet that separated us, standing just within arm’s reach he stroked my cheek with a gentle finger. "I so wanted to believe that you were just the little contessa who liked books, that I had the pleasure of helping." He hardened his voice and his eyes changed in the light from yellow to a deep golden and back again. “Truth, however slow I may be in discovering it, will out.”

  I dropped my voice back down to its normal tone. "Would my claiming one or the other change how you feel about me?" I replied.

  His eyes hardened, and he leaned in close, gripping my shoulders. "Which is it? Which do you claim as truth?"

  "The truth, just for you my dear Charles, is that they are both true, and sometimes even I don’t know where one starts and the other ends. You had surmised as much. I am the Contessa Jacqueline de Valois. I am also the Captain of The Indiana. I'm not sure where the notorious criminal reputation came from, we are an honest crew, but there you have it."

  He pushed me away and made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. “Sit. Eat.” He gestured to the seat he had been holding when I came in.

  I took the proffered seat, allowing him to guide it back under the table. “I am not as you expected. I will not apologize for that.” I looked over the small feast set out before us. “To what do I owe the pleasure of tonight’s invitation?"

  "Jacqueline,” he paused. “Or should I call you Jac?”

  “Either is fine. It isn’t as if it matters.” The words came out more callously than intended, and I flinched, hearing my own harshness.

  He looked at me sadly. “Although I must hold you prisoner until we reach Rome, I see no need to treat you below your status." Charles took the seat across from me and held up a bottle of wine, offering to pour. "I would also like hearing your story. We have enough evidence that you will stand trial for theft of the Pope’s Miter, but I cannot imagine how a noblewoman ended up here.”

  “I should like to see this evidence that
you say you have, since I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about. Theft of what?”

  “There are too many coincidences surrounding you and your crew and the theft. But let us not talk of that now,” he replied. “I wish to know your story.”

  He was right of course, insofar as he knew. And my story was not the usual one for a noblewoman. I hadn't tried the coded sequence on my arm to summon The Inara yet. I needed to walk on deck, preferably without supervision for that. Feeding his curiosity seemed like the best option.

  I held my glass up for him and watched the crimson liquid fill the goblet slowly as he poured. "How long will it take us to get to Rome?" I asked setting my glass down gently.

  "I expect about two weeks. We shall have plenty of time to get to know one another." He bowed his head briefly, uttering a simple thanks for our meal before carving slices of chicken and passing the serving tray over. He carefully kept the carving knife at his end of the table. "I'm afraid we don't have any dresses on board, or other appropriate women's clothing."

  "Since what I am wearing is my normal attire, then it will do just fine thank you very much." I replied, giving him an exasperated look. I served myself a small portion from the dishes as they came around.

  We sat for a moment in silence. He did not take the bait for an argument that I was long familiar with.

  "Tell me Charles,” I asked finally, “how did you get to be the Captain of the Guard at the Vatican? The Captain of the Pope's personal guard no less? You seem very young for a position of such responsibility." I needed to know more about this man. I had underestimated him once and was careless. Anything I could learn would be of use.

  He looked at me suspiciously, scowling. "The better question is how a woman of noble birth becomes an airship Captain and notorious pirate. You puzzle me Jacqueline. Why would you leave behind money and comfort to live a life of crime and hardship, never having a place to call home."