The unarmored knight glared at me from atop his horse. The cheerful look faded for a moment. Then a smile started at the corner of the knight’s mouth and overtook his whole expression. He laughed and looked to his horsemen before answering.
“An unfortunate occurrence,” Bertilak said. “They were sailors, like you, except they were Spaniards. Indeed, we reached a disagreement that could not have been settled by any other means.”
“And the nature of the disagreement…”
“…was a private matter between men,” Bertilak said. “It is done now and not worth speaking about any further.”
“One of the men you killed said some outrageous things about a giant before he died,” I said, watching Bertilak’s eyes. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”
“Surely not,” he lied. “Men have fevered visions in their final moments.” The knight looked me over for a silent heartbeat. “What happened to your hand, Captain?”
The question caught me off guard. A thousand answers swirled in my mind before I settled on the simplest one.
“An accident.”
“I see,” Bertilak said. “And this accident wouldn’t happen to be small and dirty, would he?”
The wound began to itch, but I fought the urge to scratch it.
“He does.”
“It appears that you and I have much to speak about, Captain.”
Leaves rustled behind me and the dogs growled. Bertilak quieted them and peered over us to the boy. His eyes opened wide and he kicked his far leg over his horse. He landed on the grass with a heaviness that shook the ground.
“You’ve struck one of them,” Bertilak said. “This is most fortunate.”
“You know these boys?”
“Well enough. They are a nuisance,” Bertilak said, walking over to the boy’s body. “Nearly as bad as the savages that stalk the forests.”
“Savages?” Smee asked. “Ah, right, the arrow we found.”
“They’re new here,” Bertilak said. “Almost as new as you are.”
“And the men back there?” I asked.
“They were old,” Bertilak said. “Not as old as we are, but old doesn’t last long here.”
The boy groaned and all eyes turned to him. Wisps of steam rose from the boy’s wound and danced for a moment before disappearing into the night air. He let out a second groan, but this one was quieter than the first.
Bertilak’s eyes lit up and joy overtook his voice.
“You were right not to finish this one off, Captain.” He motioned to the knight on his left. The armored horseman dismounted and dug through one of the pouches on Bertilak’s saddle. The knight unwrapped a few cloth coverings and revealed a small jar. Bertilak smiled and the knight walked toward the boy.
I darted into the knight’s way. “What is he doing?”
“Captain,” Bertilak said, “you will have to let us do our work if you want the boy to live.”
In one deft movement, the armored knight pulled her helmet off and stared me down with emerald eyes. Dark amber strands of hair, matted with sweat, moved with her jaw as she spoke. “Do you want the boy to live or not?”
“Good Captain,” Bertilak said, “will you part so that my wife may tend to this boy?”
“Wife,” I repeated. I stood for a moment, then stepped away.
The woman took off her gauntlets and placed them on the ground next to her. She removed the cap of the jar and rubbed a bit of green paste between her narrow fingers. She stepped over to the boy and crouched down, her feet sinking into the damp mixture of dirt and blood. She rubbed more of the paste into her palms until her hands were covered in a thin coat of what looked like moss and oil.
She then thrust her hands into the boy’s wound. He howled as she dug through his stomach.
“She’s killing him,” Starkey said. He moved to pull her away but barely took a step before the woman turned and smirked at him. As quickly as she jammed her hands into the boy’s stomach, she pulled them out and smoothed the wound over with a gesture.
The wound was gone.
The woman’s hands were no longer green from the paste nor was there a spot of red on her.
She took my hand in hers and put a small round ball in it.
“This is yours,” she told me. “Be more careful with it.”
“Are the six of you all that remain of your crew?” Bertilak asked.
I pocketed the bullet and considered the question. I decided, for a reason I couldn’t explain, to be truthful. “There are a score more of us on the ship, but we’ve been at sea for a while and need food.”
“And drink,” Smee added beneath his breath.
“All I give you, Captain, you can claim it as your own,” Bertilak said. “It is the least we can do as courteous hosts.”
“And the boy?” I asked.
Bertilak stepped over to the boy and knelt down beside him. He dug his hands into the blood soaked dirt and lifted the boy up and into the arms of Billy Jukes.
“He’ll recover at my castle,” Bertilak said. “Come. My wife and servants will prepare a feast for us.”
“You’re awfully trusting of strangers,” Noodler said.
Bertilak stopped mid-step and huffed a tired breath. His face became heavy, as though all the world pulled at each fold of skin. The expression aged him, but it only lasted for a breath.
“No doubt your desire to feed yourselves and your crew outweighs any treachery you may have planned,” Bertilak said with a renewed smile. He climbed onto his horse. The beast neighed as he sidled her up to the other two riders. “And it is always best to avoid disagreements.”
Chapter Six
We grouped together behind our guide. The constant clanging of the knights’ armor scattered exotic birds and rodents, each more unfamiliar than the last.
The path was much the same as we discovered before. Several groups of similar trees huddled around themselves, parting only for a clearing or to make room for different types of trees. The dampness in the air shifted as we walked between patches.
Just beyond the last swatch of trees, in the span of eight paces, thick grass became hard dirt. The gentle sloping of the land turned sharply upward and the gray-brown mountainside loomed over us.
Bertilak dropped behind to ride beside me. His hounds slowed also, never straying more than a few feet from their master.
“The road on the left leads up to my castle,” he said.
“And the road on the right?” I asked.
“Leads to more roads.”
“The island isn’t that large.”
“That is true, but it holds many secrets. It is just as easy to get lost here as it would be in a forest a hundred miles wide.”
Starlight cast long shadows over us as we walked the narrow path around the mountain. The rumble of rushing water grew louder with each step. What few trees remained were barren husks, twisted and lifeless. In the pale light that filtered through their branches, we came upon Bertilak’s castle.
The castle was as I pictured if from my childhood. The structure was carved into the side of the mountain and an outer wall of solid stone, nearly three men tall, encircled the perimeter. Dark gray turrets rose at the points where the wall met the mountain and a row of battlements jutted out like the teeth of some wild animal. Arrow loops decorated the outer wall. There was no draw bridge, only a large door, two men tall and three men wide, bookended by two towers.
Three men with crossbows watched us approach. One turned back and yelled something I couldn’t make out. Seconds later, five more heads appeared between the battlements.
A waterfall spilled from three small grates in the outer wall. I grabbed onto a branch and leaned over the edge to follow the path of the water as it broke over rocks into a pool that ran into the bay.
“Good Captain,” Bertilak said. “My servants will prepare three barrels for you. In the meantime, you and your crew are to join me in the main hall.”
With one ha
nd, Bertilak gripped the handle and pulled the foot-thick door open with a creak. His wife rode in first, followed by the second knight. Bertilak held the door for us as we walked through the passage then swung the door shut behind his hounds and slid a wide board across the latch. He then pulled on a series of chains behind the gatehouse, slowly lowering the iron bars behind the door.
“Trouble with intruders?” I asked. “Gates won’t stop Peter Pan.”
Bertilak smiled. “You presume I want him out. The walls keep his boys and those savages away.” The gate hit the stone floor with a crash. “Good Englishmen like yourselves need never worry, Captain.”
“We’re not all Englishmen,” Smee said.
“Then there’s room for improvement,” said Bertilak.
The inner wall was shorter and the narrow passageway between it and the outer wall was smooth, as though it were a single slate of stone. A staircase led to the ramparts on the inside of the outer wall and the doors leading into the courtyard were already open.
We passed through the gatehouse and Bertilak shut the double doors. He then turned a large crank and the inner wall gate lowered in quick, graceful movements.
Once inside the inner ward, the armored knight dismounted and lifted the boy out of the arms of Billy Jukes. He and Bertilak’s wife carried him away into the castle.
“Where are they going?” I asked.
“The boy requires rest,” Bertilak said. “Healing arts are exhausting on the body.”
Bertilak led his three horses to a wooden stable on the far right of the courtyard. There, he tied them alongside a pair of white ponies. Hook watched Bertilak and two servants feed and pat the horses through the stable’s open walls.
“We could take this place,” Noodler’s voice rasped. Smee and Cecco grumbled their approval of the idea.
“No, we can’t,” I said.
“It’s just a few men,” Smee said.
“And how do you explain the giant footprints or what the woman did back there?” I asked. The men looked to one another and shrugged. “There is something more to all of this.”
“Like what?” Jukes asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “It is like an itch in the back of my mind. When I know, you will know.”
“That isn’t very reassuring,” Starkey said.
“It doesn’t have to be,” I told him.
A servant ran over to Bertilak and said something that pleased the knight. Bertilak turned from the stable and bellowed at us. “Now, men, as promised, we eat.”
The knight led us through the inner ward to the keep. On our right, next to the stable, I made note of a blacksmith’s furnace and a carpenter’s workspace. On our left, a series of closed doors hid their contents from my prying eyes. The courtyard in front of the keep was lush and green, with a garden patch tangled in stripped vines. Three armored men pulled at the ivy that hung on the walls. One man stood on a ladder and scraped the barbs off of the stone.
Bertilak motioned to two servants, who opened the keep’s double doors.
We walked along the carpet and into the main hall. My eyes worked their way up and around the heights of the room’s stately decorations. Deep green banners with rich gold trim colored the cold gray of the stone walls and ceiling. Even the windows were stained in greens and yellows.
No man spoke as we approached the table at the center of the main hall. Sparkling silver utensils waited on either side of gold-trimmed plates. Ornate chalices and linen napkins accented the stunning display of nobility.
Two platters sat in the center of the table with slivers of cheeses and dried fruit. Further down the table, a basket of bread and a tray of roasted meat called to us. The knight turned and smiled at us, then sat. We followed, but our excitement waned when we got a closer look at the platters.
As privateers, my crew and I have visited many strange shores, each with their own cultures, foods, and treasures. Neverland, it seems, is no different.
I examined these new types of fruit with care, unsure of what was fresh and what was spoiled. Two arose suspicion. One would have looked like an apple, if not for being flat with brown and purple spotted skin. It was limp to the touch and tough as leather when I jabbed at it with my hook. The other was a berry of some sort and appeared to be covered in a fuzzy white mold.
“I know not what it is either, but it is edible raw and cooked,” Bertilak said, grabbing one of the limp brown apples. He bit a piece of it and worked it for several seconds with his back teeth before swallowing hard. “The taste isn’t much, but it will keep you alive. Better still is that they can be pressed into wine.”
Cecco perked up his head.
A frail servant walked up behind Bertilak and filled his cup with a dark wine, almost purple in color. He gulped it and his face soured. He handed the cup back to the servant for a refill. The servant filled each of their cups and the pirates looked at one another. Starkey sipped and his face twisted into a pucker.
“The first glass is always the most bitter,” Bertilak said. “The rest go down more easily.”
I speared a slice of meat through its pink center and cut into it. The scent hinted at the promise of something familiar. As I bit into it, the juice played on my tongue and my heart jumped into my throat.
“Mr. Jukes,” I said, smiling. “Do you recognize the meat we are eating?”
“I sure do,” Jukes said.
“Dragon meat,” Bertilak said. “You know of it?”
“They are called crocodiles where we are from,” Starkey said. “What other animals are there to hunt here?”
“There is not one beast on this island that doesn’t hunt you right back. If it isn’t the bears, it’s the dragons. If it isn’t the snakes, it’s the wolves. That is why I keep my hounds so close.” Bertilak stroked the dog next to him behind its large gray eyes.
“And the people?” I asked.
“The savages?” Bertilak said. “Worse than the beasts. They hunt with vengeance.”
“That’s good,” I said.
A queer look ran across Bertilak’s face.
I waved my hand and explained, “You can’t seek vengeance for something that is forgotten moments after it happens.”
The knight looked at each man at the table, then shook his head.
“There’s a Forgetting that happens in Neverland,” I said, a little confused. “Certainly you and your men have noticed it.”
“For example,” Starkey said. “You said earlier that Englishmen like us need not worry here. What do you remember about England?”
The knight chewed loudly as the question hung in the air. He drank another sip of the berry wine and wiped his mouth. “Only the word and that it was home. Everything else is a fog.”
“See, that makes no sense to me at all,” Starkey said. “If memories fade away here, which is absurd, how do you know about the beasts and the savages in Neverland?”
“We keep everything that happens on the island,” a voice said from the side of the dining hall. We turned and, for a breath, I thought it was Emily. A heartbeat pushed her dying moments to the forefront of my mind. The beat passed.
“Good sirs, this is my wife, Gabriel,” Bertilak said.
The woman approached and we stood in respect. Smee took off his hat.
“Welcome to our home, courteous knights,” Gabriel said. Her eyes passed over each of us but lingered on me a second longer than the others. She sat and we did the same.
“Forgive me, my lady,” Starkey said. “But if what you say is right, how do you ride a horse or cook food? Skills are learned experiences and, since no one seems to age around here, I’m certain that you learned those skills from before.”
“We’ve learned to stop asking questions,” Bertilak said.
“That is the worst offense of all,” I said by reflex. The whole table quieted, but I pressed anyway. “That’s as bad as being one of Peter’s children.”
“By my faith, I was wondering when we were going to get to him,” B
ertilak said. “Tell me, Captain, what is your business with Peter Pan?”
“Unfinished.”
Bertilak smiled. “As is mine.”
“So what do you propose we do about him?”
“You would ally yourself so quickly?” Bertilak asked.
“We don’t intend to be here long.”
“No one does.” He drank the last bit of wine, then placed the cup on the table. “I have found that overwhelming force works nicely.”
“Yet the boy still lives.”
“That is true, but you will not see him in these halls,” Bertilak said. He leaned back in his chair, patting his stomach. “Trust in me, Captain, you and your men are quite safe from Peter Pan here. You could stand to learn patience.”
“I learned patience before Neverland,” I told him. “I’m unsure how much longer I’ll keep it.”
“Beg your pardon,” Smee said, “but you bring your wife to a fight?”
“Every pair of hands is needed here,” Bertilak said. He picked up a small cup and drizzled a thick syrup on his plate, then poured some on Smee’s plate as well. Smee opened his mouth to speak, but Bertilak quieted him with a look. “Try this on your fruit.”
Smee looked at the others, then bit a piece of the syrup-covered berry. His face lit up and he barely swallowed before speaking.
“It’s molasses!”
“It comes from the sap of the trees on the near side of the island,” Bertilak said.
“Have you yeast?” Smee asked.
“We make bread, yes.”
“Then we can make rum!”
“Rum?” the knight repeated.
“Oh, yes,” Cecco said. “It’s a magical drink, stronger than wine or ale.”
Bertilak laughed deeply. He folded his napkin and tossed it down onto his plate. “How many barrels of food do you need?”
“One is fine,” I said.
“Come, Captain. You have men to feed and I have more here than I can use.”
“We’ll be needing water,” Smee said.
“Water is in abundance no matter when you seek it,” Bertilak said. “The falls are fresh and flow day and night.”
“Regardless of rain or weather?” Starkey asked.
Captain James Hook and the Siege of Neverland Page 4