Poseidon’s Legion

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “Have you not heard what he is called, my lady?” Augustin entered the conversation again. “It is said that Constantine was borne of the waves and lifted up by the gods of the sea as their most prized possession. Everyone believes that, you know.”

  Gregoria’s smile turned genuine as she looked at Constantine. “Is that true?” she asked. “Is that really the story of your immaculate birth?”

  He laughed softly. “Not exactly,” he said. “But sometimes it feels I was borne of the sea. That is my home, more than anywhere else on the earth.”

  “Then mayhap you’ll leave Perran Castle to me,” Augustin said, winking at Constantine when the man frowned at him. “I’ll have use of the castle while you spend your time in the halls of Poseidon.”

  Gregoria grinned as Augustin and Constantine traded mild insults after that; evidently, Augustin wasn’t worthy of Perran Castle but Augustin thought differently. Gregoria had never really seen Constantine interact with his men on a casual basis, and it was a noteworthy occasion. Considering what she’d always heard of pirates – a rough, uncouth group of murderers, filthy in their habits as well as in their outlook on life – to watch Constantine and his men at this moment, one could have never guessed what their vocation was.

  To Gregoria, it seemed as if they were simply normal men in the course of a normal day. But for the fact that everyone in the town of Eynon Bay seemed to be hiding from them, there was nothing different about them, as least to the casual observer. But a noble vocation was far from the truth for these men; this was Poseidon’s Legion, the most feared group of English pirates in these waters, something that had been hammered into her by her brother and by Lord Wembury. But they didn’t know these men like she was coming to; it was possible that everything she’d been told about them was wrong.

  She wanted to believe that.

  One of the things that made this situation appear so normal was the easy rapport between Constantine and his men. They taunted each other, or spoke seriously to each other, without a blade or blood drawn. Their conversation was, for the most part, quite civilized. Even the lesser-ranking men seemed civilized. Gregoria rather liked Augustin, for he spoke to her politely, but when Lucifer entered the conversation, she turned her nose up and looked away. She wasn’t going to pay attention to a man who had threatened her life should she betray Constantine.

  Even if he had every right to.

  The reality of the situation was settling once more, biting at her now, nipping away at the angst and confusion she felt. God, was it possible Lucifer knew something of her true objective? She wasn’t sure how he could know, but the way he looked at her suggested that he knew something. He didn’t trust her. He had every right to threaten her but she still resented it. How could she explain she’d been sent to betray a man because others wanted him dead, not because there was anything personal? But that had been before. This was now.

  There was something very personal about it now.

  Foolishly, she’d brought the holy relic with her. She’d entertained the thought of throwing it overboard and telling Constantine it was lost, but she’d decided not to do it, afraid she’d be seen or somehow get caught up in yet another lie. Now, they were on land and it was less than a day to Three Crosses where the Earl of March was waiting.

  … but what if she kept them waiting?

  What if she could delay their travel enough so that the Earl of March believed they were never coming? She knew the English had already been in Wales for a couple of weeks; they were in Wales when she and her brother and Lord Wembury made it to Perranporth to seek out Constantine. That was well over a week ago. Was it possible she could delay enough so that the Earl of March would grow weary of waiting and simply leave? That would involve quite a delay on her part, perhaps faking an illness. Anything to save Constantine.

  But perhaps instead of elaborate lies or plans, she should simply summon the courage to tell him what she’d done. Perhaps he would hate her but, in the end, at least she could live with herself.

  Perhaps that was what this was finally about… her self-respect. The neglected, bullied woman who had hoped for a house by the sea was finally finding her self-worth in the arms of England’s more feared pirate. He seemed to believe in her, misplaced as his trust was.

  But perhaps that meant she could believe in herself.

  More food came as Gregoria stewed in her thoughts, listening to Constantine and Augustin and Remy laugh about something. She didn’t really understand much of what was being said; something about a Scottish pirate friend lusting after a woman who turned out to be a man. They seemed to find that quite hilarious.

  The second pirate that had been sent into the kitchens to watch the food emerged, sitting at the table as boiled apples and onions and even porridge was put on the table. Everyone seemed to be grabbing for their own bowls of food, but Constantine and Augustin made sure Gregoria had the first serving of the apples and onions. The compote smelled heavily of cinnamon and cloves, and Gregoria sampled it timidly, soon realizing that it was delicious. Warm, spicy, sweet… it filled her belly and made her feel much better than she had in a while. Augustin had been correct; the clove and cinnamon seemed to help her nausea. By the time she finished the bowl, it was almost completely gone.

  She was also able to eat some of the bread and butter that the tavern keeper’s wife brought out after that. The bread was fresh and the butter salty, and she enjoyed it a great deal. The old wife seemed to be fussing over her quite a bit, making sure she received the first pick of the bread before anyone else did and bringing her boiled apple juice to drink because she didn’t want the ale. She was a big woman, busty, smelling of strong perfume mixed with body odor. Every time she moved, the rather pungent scent filled the air. Had she not been so nice, Gregoria might have tried to move the woman away from her. But as it was, she was being very kind. Gregoria appreciated it. The woman was bending over the table to take away an empty bowl when Constantine suddenly stopped her.

  “You,” he said, pointing at her neck. “Let me see that cross you are wearing.”

  The woman looked down at her chest; she was wearing a few chains, one of them even bearing keys, but she singled out the necklace Constantine was referring to and held it up to the light; it was a magnificent silver cross inlaid with dark blue sapphires. The old woman seemed to be more at ease with the men than her husband was by this point and she spoke up.

  “This?” she asked, watching Constantine nod. “Aye, laddie, my husband gave this to me years ago. It had belonged to his mother, the old bat, but then it became mine. It looks better on me!”

  She was snorting at her own humor, causing Gregoria to laugh. She had about two teeth in her head but that didn’t stop her from smiling broadly.

  “It is beautiful,” Gregoria said. “I have never seen such a lovely piece.”

  The old woman held the cross nearer so that Gregoria could get a closer look at it. “Sapphires from the orient, I’m told,” she said. “My mother-in-law said the necklace was made for a queen in ancient times but, somehow, it ended up on the neck of a poor old fish wife. I don’t know how she came about it, but I’m sure the Queen of Sheba didn’t give it to her. She must have stolen it.”

  She was chuckling at her humor again as Gregoria smirked. “Well, it is quite beautiful,” she said. “You must be very proud of it.”

  As the old woman shrugged, Constantine seized on it. She didn’t seem particularly attached to the necklace but he, on the other hand, knew it was a very expensive piece. He’d seen enough jewels to know that it was a rare find. Either the old woman didn’t know what she had around her neck or she didn’t care. In either case, Constantine was about to do what he didn’t normally do for a piece of goods – barter.

  He wanted it.

  “I will give you four gold crowns for the necklace,” he said, watching the humor drain from the woman’s face. “I’d wager that you cannot find anyone around here to pay you what that necklace is worth, but I can
. Sell it to me and keep the gold. I am sure you can use the money more than you can use that necklace.”

  The woman was shocked. She looked at the necklace in confusion before returning her attention to Constantine.

  “Four… four gold crowns?” she repeated. “For this?”

  “Five.”

  That caused the woman to pull it right off her neck and hand it to him. Constantine took the necklace swiftly as he dug into the purse at his belt and pulled forth five gold coins with the face of Henry VI stamped on them. They were newly minted, not a mark on them, part of a larger haul he’d come away with the year before when he’d ambushed a royal treasury vessel heading for France. He handed them over to the old woman, who gleefully rushed off to show her husband the deal she’d made for the necklace. Meanwhile, Constantine turned to Gregoria.

  “Here,” he said, lifting the necklace over her head and settling it on her neck. “For you. For bravely enduring a terrible storm and living to tell the tale. You deserve to be rewarded.”

  Gregoria was greatly surprised as he put the necklace on her and she looked at it in shock, stunned by his generosity.

  “I do not know what to say,” she said, awe in her voice. “It is so beautiful. I have never had anything so beautiful, ever.”

  Constantine watched her features as she spoke. He could tell how deeply sincere she was and it gave him a good feeling, knowing he’d made her happy. As a man who had experienced a great deal in life, it gave him the most satisfying feeling he’d ever known. Mostly, all he ever gave people was a sense of terror. But to give joy… that was a better feeling altogether.

  “It was made for you,” he said, lowering his voice. “Not that old bird with the missing teeth. It was made for someone of your beauty and grace, the definition of a true queen.”

  She looked up from inspecting the cross. “Beauty and grace are the definition of a queen?”

  He shrugged, rather embarrassed because not only were his men listening in, but he wasn’t used to speaking flattering words that were actually true. He was a master at telling women what they wanted to hear and not meaning a word of it. But in this case, he meant everything he said and was embarrassed for it.

  “Con, we have an entire vault full of jewels and finery,” Remy said from across the table. “She could have had her pick of anything there.”

  Constantine looked at Remy, unhappy that the man had interrupted his moment with Gregoria. “And she can still have her pick,” he said. “She can have it all if she wishes. But this…” he chuckled nervously. “I wanted to give her something that I actually paid for. Something that I bought just for her.”

  It made no sense to Remy, but it made some sense to Augustin and Lucifer. There was a difference between giving a woman something that you acquired through battle or theft and something you took the time to purchase. Items you stole had no meaning because they were mere possessions. But to buy something specifically for that woman… well, that meant something.

  Lucifer passed a long glace at Augustin, who merely lifted an eyebrow and turned back to his drink. The Constantine who had departed Perranporth those days ago was not the same Constantine they saw before them. Considering the man had admitted it to Lucifer, he already knew what was going on, but Augustin was starting to realize how much had changed. Constantine was buying gifts rather than stealing them.

  Times were changing, indeed.

  And they had changed for Gregoria, as well. She couldn’t take her eyes off the magnificent cross. When she heard arguing in the kitchen of the tavern between the owner and his wife, she knew it was over the necklace, but she didn’t care. The only way they’d get it back is if they cut it off her cold, dead body. She’d never had a man give her anything at all, and certainly not a gift so special, and she held on to it, the sheer act of the gift touching her more deeply than she’d ever been touched before. It meant something. Constantine meant something.

  Tell him he cannot go to Three Crosses!

  A voice was screaming in her head. My God… the man was being kind to her, buying her gifts and, still, she was selfishly keeping silent about his fate. But the necklace had become the tipping point, toppling her right over onto the side of truth. She could keep silent no longer. Now was the moment she’d been dreading, but she had to summon her courage. Constantine’s life depended on it.

  As she opened her mouth to tell the man she needed to speak with him, alone, Lucifer suddenly stood up.

  “Look,” he said, looking around what was now a barren common room. “Everyone has left.”

  It was a shocking observation. Abruptly, everyone was on their feet, weapons being unsheathed. There was instant tension in the air as Constantine and his men reacted to an abruptly empty tavern.

  “Where did everyone go?” Remy said, broadsword in hand. “Did anyone even see them leave? Where are the owner and his wife?”

  Gregoria had been caught off guard by the sudden movement around her, men who were now apprehensive that something was amiss. Somehow, someway, everyone in the room had slipped out while they were eating and drinking, and the usually observant men hadn’t noticed a thing. They had been focused on apples and onions, or silver crosses. As she looked to Constantine to ask him what had happened, he grasped her by the arm and began to shove her down under the table.

  “Get under the table,” he told her. “Quickly, now. Do not come out until I tell you to.”

  Gregoria didn’t argue. Frightened, she slipped down beneath the table, on her knees on old food and old rushes. It smelled horrible down under the table, but she crouched down, watching the feet of Constantine and his men move around the table, fanning out. She even heard Remy calling to the tavern owner and his wife, receiving no reply. Just a she heard Constantine mention that they should leave immediately, it was as if the entire world exploded.

  It was a deafening sound. Wood went flying, splinters scattering all over the floor, and Gregoria shrieked as a full-scale battle suddenly waged over her head. The table was heavy, fortunately, but that didn’t stop from getting it bumped around significantly. When it moved, she moved, fearful that the table was going to tip over or come down on top of her. Absolutely terrified, Gregoria covered her head with her hands and prayed.

  She wasn’t the only one doing the praying. Constantine and his men were outnumbered; Constantine could see that from the beginning. Men with swords and axes had come charging in through the front and the rear of the tavern, with a few even barreling in through the windows, causing the shutters to snap and wood to fly.

  It seemed like an organized assault by an organized army, but Constantine very quickly realized that these weren’t soldiers. Some of the men were carrying clubs or pitchforks, looking as if they’d never seen a day of battle in their life. Some of the men simply stood on the fringes, letting the men with bigger and better weapons go after the pirates who had infiltrated their town.

  But those men were being cut down quickly, especially by Constantine, Lucifer, Augustin, and Remy. These were men who had trained as knights most of their lives and they knew how to fight a battle. Constantine had leapt up onto the table, the one Gregoria was huddling beneath, and he’d managed to slash, kick, or gore several men right at the onset of the fight. Unlike a knight, however, Constantine and his men didn’t wear any armor or protection, which was to their disadvantage in close-quarters flighting like this. But that knightly instinct was felt in their sword as they fought off what seemed like the entire town.

  “This isn’t an army, Con,” Lucifer said, jumping onto the table next to him. He kicked a man to the ground who charged at him. “If I had to guess, I would say the town banded together when they saw the Gaia in the bay. We made it easy for them to corner us by coming into the tavern.”

  Constantine nodded. “That was my thought, also,” he said. “But the fact remains that there are more of them than us and unless we intend to kill the entire town, we had better find a way out of here.”

  Lucifer was s
urveying the scene, watching Remy and Augustin kill a pair of men who had rushed them with shovels. “Shall I tell the men to start moving out?”

  Constantine barely avoided having his ankle cut into by a man with a big, broad blade. Kicking the man in the side of the head, he used his sword to gore him in the back between the shoulder blades in a clean kill.

  “Aye,” he said, yanking his sword from the man’s body. “Have them back away and get to their horses. Tell them to head out of town and we will regroup on the road to the north.”

  Lucifer took his orders and began to move. It was mayhem in the little tavern as tables were kicked over and chairs broken. Somewhere over near the hearth, one of Constantine’s men had shoved an opponent into the fire, and the man screamed as flames began to consume him. That had Constantine’s attention until he saw someone whack Augustin on the back of the head, sending the man to his knees. Another man was coming up behind Augustin, preparing to stab him, but Constantine went flying off of the table to put himself between Augustin and his attackers.

  In short order, he fought off the men with the blades, goring one and badly injuring the other. By the time he turned to Augustin, the man was struggling to his feet.

  “Are you well enough?” Constantine asked, grasping him by the arm to steady him. “That was quite a hit.”

  Augustin’s right hand was on the back of his head. “That was nothing,” he muttered. “My wife hits me harder than that. But thank you for preventing those fools from using me like a pin cushion.”

  Constantine flashed him a sly grin. “I did it for your wife, not you,” he said. “If you are killed, she would probably try to whack me in the head because of it.”

  Augustin grinned weakly, feeling dazed and sick but still able to fight. “Merryn is bold that way,” he said. Then, he started looking around. “We would do better to get free of this confined space, Con. We are boxed in here.”

  Constantine wasn’t hard pressed to agree. Making sure Augustin wasn’t going to totter back to his knees again, he let the man go and fought his way through the group. Some of the attackers were fleeing now, confronted by men who truly did know how to fight, and the floor was littered with wounded, but none of them were Constantine’s men, thankfully. He was nearly to the heavy table shielding Gregoria when something quite terrible happened.