Sibylla and the Privateer

by Marina Oliver

  Someone started to sing, and soon they were all roaring out songs while the landlord continued to ply them with wine.

  After a time they ran out of ideas for songs, and Josselin began reminiscing. He passed from tales of recent battles to olden day ones and the soldiers listened as he drew pictures of heroic actions. They imagined themselves performing such deeds, and he went on to excite them still more by describing the tournaments that had been held.

  “In those days, men with quarrels settled them in trial by combat,” he said slowly, then cried out as if an idea had suddenly come to him. They looked at him with renewed interest

  “Why should not I and my friend here settle our difference this way? What say you, Randolph?”

  “Do not be a fool,” Randolph said thickly, but the soldiers set up a cry of disgust. Josselin had become a hero to them as the tales of the exploits of past heroes became jumbled in their fuddled minds. They were not going to have him called a fool.

  “Are you too cowardly?” one of them asked Randolph, scorn in his voice. Randolph came to his feet drawing his sword out of its scabbard.

  “I will not have you scum call me coward,” he shouted.

  They were angry by now, and though the Captain retained a faint notion in his mind this was not what they were there for, he was not certain enough of himself or his real reason for being there that he wished to argue. He was swept out into the inn yard, where the landlord quickly organized flares that were fixed into wall brackets, illuminating the yard clearly.

  Josselin and Randolph drew their knives and swords, and as they began circling round each other looking for an opening, several girls came into the yard offering more wine to the soldiers, showing themselves very willing to stay and hear the compliments the men were anxious to pay them.

  The two in the center of the ring were still circling warily. Then, with a cry that made shivers go down the backs of the watchers, Josselin leapt in, dodged the sword thrust Randolph made towards him, and leapt back again, having neatly cut several buttons from Randolph’s coat which flapped open and caused him no little inconvenience.

  When the soldiers laughed and cheered, Josselin turned and bowed towards them. Randolph, thinking he had a chance, came rushing in. Some gave a warning shout, but Josselin was prepared. He suddenly threw himself to the ground and rolled against Randolph’s legs, well out of the way of his descending sword, and caused Randolph to come crashing to the ground.

  Almost before Randolph hit the ground, Josselin was on his feet again, dancing lightly about, waiting for Randolph to pick himself up.

  Randolph was livid with anger at the way Josselin was playing with him, for he was accounted a good swordsman, and came rushing into the attack. Josselin stepped neatly aside and hooked Randolph’s wig off with the tip of his sword. He presented it gravely to one of the girls while Randolph, his short dark curls revealed, turned and made another lunge at Josselin.

  The soldiers loved it. They cheered constantly, in between drinking, and the girls made sure their glasses were replenished frequently.

  Now Randolph was almost blind with frustration and humiliation. He began to panic, for he knew he was no match for this inspired opponent. As Josselin contemptuously parried his wild thrusts, he began to breathe more deeply, and tried to taunt Josselin.

  “You think Sibylla is sweet and virtuous, do you not? I could tell you differently!”

  Josselin merely smiled.

  “Would you like to know more, before she entraps you?”

  Josselin’s smile deepened.

  “She will go to any man who calls.”

  As Josselin seemed unmoved by this, Randolph, despair in his heart, tried to use the passes he had been taught. He thrust again and again at Josselin, who flicked his most cunning thrusts contemptuously aside. Finally, appearing to tire of the game, with a twist he caused Randolph’s sword to fly out of his hand and clatter on to the stones several yards away.

  Now Randolph had only his knife. He backed away as Josselin approached, but the soldiers kicked him back towards the center of the ring. Josselin stood, his sword tip resting on the ground. Randolph took a last desperate gamble and threw his knife towards Josselin, who moved a fraction of an inch, and let it pass harmlessly by his head.

  Inexorably, slowly, Josselin advanced.

  “Do you withdraw your charges against me?”

  Randolph looked round wildly, but there was no help to be had. All the faces round about were gloating at him. “Do you withdraw them?”

  Eventually, unable to speak, Randolph nodded.

  “Montjoie, do you take note of that?”

  The Captain, who had been somewhat sobered by the night air, and less appreciative of the charms of the girls than his men, was becoming worried about what his superiors would say.

  “I have noted it, but you will still have to come with us Josselin, and sort it out in the morning.”

  “Very well, but a few moments more.”

  He turned back to Randolph.

  “You are pleased with your activities, I have no doubt, but any right thinking person would condemn your betrayal of a friend, and even more your use of an innocent girl to further your despicable schemes. How dare you have presumed to approach her? She is as far above you as the stars. I was content to let you go free after Mont Saint Michel, but now, I see only too clearly, you will always be a nuisance to me and to Sibylla.”

  Contemptuously he turned away, and Randolph, wild with fury and despair, flung himself forwards, grasping Josselin round the neck. He tried to wrest Josselin’s sword away from him, and as Josselin twisted out of his hold fell down just as one of the soldiers plunged his sword through Randolph’s heart.

  As Randolph dropped to the ground, Josselin, without a further glance walked away.

  The soldiers crowded around him, applauding him, and clapping him on the back. He smiled, and seized a bottle one of the girls was holding. After kissing her soundly on the lips, he drank deep.

  “Let us go in, my friends. It turns cold.”

  “Aye, ‘tis cozier inside,” one of the girls said. Giggling, she eluded the soldier who had his arm round her, and ran inside.

  He ran after her, and the others followed. In the mêlée Josselin stepped aside, and pulled the girl with him, so that he seemed to be fully occupied with her. As the last of the soldiers swept by, he grinned at her.

  “My very grateful thanks. Tell your father, and I will be back to see him soon.”

  “Your horse is ready. Father had it saddled. Come.”

  She led him swiftly through the back premises of the inn, and out to where his horse was being held by the landlord himself.

  “Gaston, you were superb. My thanks to the girls.”

  He swung himself up into the saddle, and with a wave was gone, but not unseen.

  The Captain had been sobered by the events in the yard and had missed Josselin immediately. He had dragged the least drunk of the soldiers out into the yard, and saw Josselin riding away. Calling angrily for the landlord, he made for the stables where his own horse was tied, and led it hastily into the yard. Only one soldier had been capable of attending him, and as he shouted to the man to follow, set off in pursuit.

  Josselin heard the thunder of hooves, glanced back and saw with relief there were only the two of them in pursuit. He urged his own horse as fast as possible in the faint starlight, but was unable to out-distance them.

  He galloped back the way they had come, but passed the gates of the Chateau. Now, going along narrow and often steep lanes, he had to slacken his speed, but so did the pursuers. Once his horse stumbled and almost fell, but Josselin had thrown himself back into the saddle with the loss of only a few yards.

  They came to the open cliff top and Josselin thundered across the turf towards the entrance to the c
aves. He looked around–his pursuers were less than fifty yards behind.

  Then he saw his boat. The Falcon, her commander true to his instructions, had set sail, and the boat, elegant so that he thrilled anew at the sight of her, was in midstream, sailing away down the river.

  He changed the direction of his horse slightly and rode on, passing the caves and riding along the cliff top towards the headland that reared up a mile or so in front, its silhouette sharp against the sky.

  Chapter Thirteen

  As the time for departure drew nearer, those on the Falcon busied themselves with many tasks. Frantic with anxiety, Sibylla stood on the deck peering at the caves, though she could not see the entrance.

  She sensed Jean was about to order them to cast off, and went up to him and caught his arm.

  “Jean, I beg of you, wait a little longer.”

  “Mademoiselle, I dare not disobey. I have waited as long as I can.”

  “But Josselin!” she almost sobbed. “What if he comes and we are gone?”

  “He expects orders to be obeyed, and he will expect me to have left when the three hours are up.”

  “Then he will be left behind, and probably taken again by the soldiers; and I shall never see him again,” she added under her breath.

  He glanced at her sympathetically.

  “Josselin may have other plans.”

  She did not ask him to explain.

  “Please, please wait a little longer!”

  “Mademoiselle, I regret. Josselin will know we have gone, and he will act accordingly. He will not allow himself to be taken. If necessary, his tenants will hide him. This is all his land, and he knows it well, every inch. He will evade the soldiers.”

  “You mean he allowed them to take him to give me time to leave?”

  “Yes. He would not want to offer resistance while you were in danger, though if he had called on them, his servants would have prevented the soldiers from leaving. Depend on it, he has a plan, and will have escaped them by now. We must help him by doing what is expected.”

  Her shoulders drooping, she turned away, as he gave the order to cast off. While the boat moved slowly out into the river, she went to the stern and gazed through the tears back at the cliffs, wondering what became of him. She could not believe Jean’s assurances that he would be free by now.

  Dimly she heard a shout from one of the sailors and then the sound of running feet on the deck. She looked round saw someone pointing and followed the direction of his arm. With sudden excitement she saw a horseman outlined against the sky and galloping along the top of the cliffs. She knew it was Josselin, but then her hopes sank low, for how could he reach them?

  She moved to Jean.

  “Go back,” she pleaded, but, his eyes fixed on the flying figure, Jean shook his head.

  Now she could see two other figures behind, also on horseback, and she watched, tense and breathless. They were gaining on the boat, and she heard Jean, excitement carefully controlled in his voice, giving swift orders.

  The Falcon slowed, and drew under the cliffs, so that Sibylla lost sight of the men riding so desperately along the top. She waited, and noticed they were very close under the cliff.

  Then, so suddenly that Sibylla jumped in alarm, she heard shouts, and glancing upwards, saw a man in a pale colored coat which gleamed against the rock, clambering down a steep path. Two others appeared above him, hesitated, then they too began the descent.

  Her heart in her mouth, Sibylla watched, and at length the man in front, who was now close enough for her to be certain it was Josselin, stood on a ledge. She looked wildly round, but could see no way off it. The cliff dropped sheer. The other men, spurred by the realization their quarry was trapped, called to him to give up. Sibylla recognized the Captain’s voice.

  Josselin’s laugh came to them.

  “Oh no, my friends, I go to England to bring back proof to clear me of those ridiculous charges!”

  Sibylla screamed as he launched himself into the air. For a moment she closed her eyes, but forced them open again as the men standing about her on the deck cheered. She looked up to see Josselin clinging in the rigging. As he came climbing down, he waved gaily back at his balked pursuers.

  Already the boat was moving again, as Josselin sprang onto the deck. Sibylla flung herself into his arms, sobbing with fright and relief.

  He soothed her gently.

  “Did I not say I would come? Did you lose faith in me? Oh, my dear Sibylla, this will not do. Or do you think I am a ghost?”

  When Sibylla gave a faint laugh, he smiled.

  “That is better. Now, we are providing a most interesting diversion for the crew. I fear they will drive us onto the rocks. Let me take you to the cabin so that they will not be distracted from their work.”

  She laughed again and drew away from him, looking up with her face full of embarrassment.

  “I apologize. I was so terrified.”

  “I regret I was the cause of it, but all is well now and you can sleep in peace. Randolph will worry you no more.”

  She did not ask, for she knew from the steely note in his voice that Randolph was dead. She allowed Josselin to lead her to the cabin and there after he wished her goodnight, she collapsed into bed.

  * * * *

  The voyage was calm and uneventful, but Josselin, though always courteous, seemed withdrawn. Sibylla had plucked up the courage to ask him how he had escaped from the soldiers, and he told her briefly his landlord ally had helped to make them drunk, so they had allowed him to fight Randolph.

  “He will be no danger to anyone now.”

  “How will you get the evidence you promised the Captain?” she asked.

  “I will get a sworn statement from the fishermen you were with. If they say I did not destroy their boat, the authorities can do nought.”

  “But Randolph? Will they not charge you with his death?”

  “It was a duel and Montjoie and his soldiers will not talk of it, to bring trouble on their own heads. It was one of his soldiers who killed Randolph.”

  She longed for him to refer to the claim he made that they were betrothed, but she did not dare ask him what he meant. He seemed to have forgotten it, and did not wish to talk of the last evening in the Chateau. She came to the conclusion it had, as he had intimated to her at the time, been but a ruse, and he had thought no more of it.

  Her feelings were in a tumultuous state, with the coming parting from Josselin continually at the forefront of her mind, and the thoughts of seeing her parents and sisters again. She was weary, with dark circles under her eyes by the time they landed in the little port Sibylla had left so many weeks and adventures ago.

  As Josselin handed her to the jetty, almost the first person she saw, gaping unbelievingly at them, was the captain of the fishing boat. Josselin who had seen him too, turned and spoke quickly to Jean, who nodded and followed the man, who was walking hurriedly along the quay.

  “Jean will deal with him. Let us see about some horses.”

  Josselin and Sibylla were soon riding along the Devon lanes, both silent. It was not long before they came within sight of her home. As they rode up the short drive Sibylla saw Alison staring in amazement from one of the bedroom windows. Then she disappeared. By the time they arrived at the front door, family and servants, even dogs, came rushing out of it in great excitement.

  Josselin dismounted quickly and lifted Sibylla down. Immediately she was surrounded, questions hurled at her, until Mr. Hurst firmly sent the servants away. He then turned to invite Josselin into the house, apologizing for the neglect, but hoping he would excuse it in the excitement of the moment.

  Sibylla smiled at him. “Mother, Father, this is the Marquis de St. Aubin. My parents, and my sisters Alison and Cecilia.”

  Puzzled, her parents wel
comed him and ushered him into the great parlor. With obvious restraint, they offered wine and cakes before asking any questions until Cecilia could bear it no longer.

  “Sibylla, where have you been? Did you indeed elope with Randolph? How exciting! Where is he? And who — how—” She stopped in confusion.

  “No indeed I did not elope with that horrid man! Mother, have you been thinking dreadful things of me? He made me go with him, and Josselin rescued me. Then we had to save Gerard. I could not come home before, truly I could not!”

  Mistress Hurst laughed. “Steady, my dear. We will hear the story all in good time, but I am so relieved you are not hurt and most grateful to you, my lord, for the help you have given Sibylla.”

  “Indeed yes,” her father put in. “Now, Sibylla, we have all afternoon, and we want to understand the story. How could Randolph force you to go with him?”

  “He tied me up. I wouldn’t elope, you see, though I am sorry, Father, I was meeting him against your wishes. He was going to betray Gerard.” She ignored the questions from her sisters as to how this could be, for she saw her parents knew. “I discovered it, and he was going to take me to Jersey and trap Gerard there. Josselin stopped the boat, and took us off.”

  With help from Josselin when the story became too involved and glossing over the piratical nature of his sailing, she eventually told the whole tale. Then it was suppertime. The Hursts insisted Josselin stay, and he sat down to supper with them.

  Worn out with emotion Sibylla was very quiet, but she was able to observe with wry amusement how her sisters were regarding Josselin with open admiration. At the end of supper, Mistress Hurst swept the girls off to bed, despite the loud protests of Alison and Cecilia.

  “You too, Sibylla. You are exhausted.”

  Sibylla smiled wanly, and agreed. Josselin stood up and came to take her to the door.

  “Goodnight, Sibylla. Sleep well.”

  Gaining her room, she found her sisters following her, and she had to endure their enthusiastic, rapturous comments on Josselin and questions she had no desire to answer. Pleading fatigue, she eventually drove them away and cried herself to sleep.