So Worthy My Love

by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss

  “Promise me you will come to me safe and sound,” Elise begged him through her tears.

  Maxim held her hard against him. “Guard my words carefully, madam,” he murmured into her hair, “for I tell you this only to assure you of my most earnest intent to return to England.” He drew away enough to meet her gaze, and as he spoke, he pressed her hands in prayerlike fashion between his palms. “If all goes well, my love, I mean to bring Hilliard back with me.”

  A shout from the windows high above marked the Hansards’ entry into the chamber, and those on the ground looked up to see Hilliard and some of his companions leaning out the windows. There was a flurry of confused questions as the men searched the outer wall for some clue as to how the small group had executed a descent from so lofty a height, but their curiosity remained unappeased. Grinding his teeth, Hilliard followed his soldiers from the room, stepping over the splintered door and stomping his way down the stairs. He was of a mind to think the Englishman and his group had somehow grown wings.

  Maxim lifted Elise to the back of the horse and slapped its rump to send the animal flying from the courtyard. Though he felt as if a heavy weight had just descended upon his chest, he ran to the wall to watch the small band of riders race down the lane away from the castle, then he turned to man the small cannon. He had little time to feel the sadness that was waiting to overtake him, for in a moment the remaining force of Hilliard’s men came charging through the doorway to be met with twin, wide-sweeping, missile-spraying jolts from the two small cannons. It was a long time later when Hilliard finally raised a knobby pole upon which a white banner had been fastened.

  Chapter 26

  THE SHIP SEIZED a bone in her teeth as it filled its sails with deep gusts of wind. Though she was a stiffly laden vessel with a full cargo of copper, silver, dried cod, and Hamburg beer in her hold, her stalwart bows sliced through the turbulent gray sea with ease, making good time. Close above her white sails, dark clouds scudded past, chased by strong-winded zephyrs from the north. Now and then a spattering of raindrops slashed down upon the deck and were themselves washed into oblivion by the ocean spray that hurled itself over the prow. Sea gulls soared aloft on widespread wings and cried their strident song as they followed the vessel’s progress around the Frisian Islands, then the topsails cracked like guns as the ship came off the last windward tack around the end of the isles. The helmsman caught the spinning wheel and steadied the rudder amidship, while the crew raced through the tops and along the deck to set more sail. The loudly bawled commands of the crew masters created a cacophony of sound that was discernible only to a seaman’s trained ear. Slowly the Netherlands fell astern and the waters deepened as the ship headed out into the North Sea. The cries of the sea gulls ceased as the birds gave up their unrewarding vigil and sought food among the inshore shallows.

  Elise shivered as the chilling gusts whipped her heavy woolen cloak and invaded the billowing hood to snatch her hair from its sober mooring. She had donned plain, warmly serviceable clothes, preferring to keep her better gowns and fur-lined cloak packed safely away. She had been wise in doing so, for she could feel a fine spray of spindrift upon her face as she stood by the rail and looked out to sea toward the distant horizon. England lay somewhere beyond that vague, grayish murk which blended sea with sky, but she could feel no joy at going home when her heart was still behind her. She had no assurance that Maxim was alive, and when the memory of the raging Hilliard continued to haunt her, she found herself confronted by a vision of her beloved lying dead at the feet of that bovine beast. Had she yielded to her anxieties and not waged a desperate battle to uproot the strong nesting instincts of her fears, they would have settled in her mind to completely rend her sanity. By dint of will and a tenaciously stubborn resolve, she kept reminding herself of her husband’s prowess in battle and of his somewhat uncanny ability to turn every trial into a triumph.

  Seeking a place beyond the reach of the mist, Elise climbed to the quarterdeck where Nicholas and the helmsman kept wary eyes on the binnacle. She was careful to maintain a discreet distance from the captain, and for once he hardly noticed her as he checked the heading and trimmed his ship. His voice was subdued but confident as he spoke to the helmsman, and with close attention the man followed his directions.

  None could fault Nicholas’s intelligence or his manners, Elise thought as she shifted her gaze starboard. It was evident that his men respected him as did she, and though at times he had been somewhat reticent since their departure from Hamburg, for the most part he had been kind and solicitous toward her. She was certainly wealthier for having been acquainted with the man, for he had returned more than triple her investment. The real reward, however, was in knowing a man of such rich character, for he truly enjoyed life to the fullest measure.

  He had been kind enough to vacate his cabin for her again, and whenever there was occasion to share the delectable cuisine prepared by Herr Dietrich, they exchanged congenial pleasantries and conversations, avoiding any mention of what might have been. There were times when Elise would catch him watching her, as if he shared her fears for Maxim with equal pain. At other times he seemed to struggle with the same restrictions he had placed upon himself during their first voyage together. She belonged to another; he had no intention of intruding or appearing forward, and yet when he had valued her beyond all other women, enough to want her as his wife, there was a tendency, or perhaps even a desire, for a truce or an understanding to be established between them so they might somehow glean a lasting friendship from the ashes of the past.

  “Segelschiff! Viertel Steuerbord!” The shout rang out from the lofty heights above, and when Elise looked up, she saw the lookout high in the crow’s nest of the mainmast pointing behind them to where a thin slice of land still darkened the horizon. A speck of white seemed to dot it, and though Elise could not understand what he had said, she knew the significance of that small spot of white. It was the sails of another ship!

  Nicholas seized the kenning glass from the mate and whirled to face the stern quarter, bringing the spyglass up to his eye. For a long moment he peered through the elongated cylinder, and when he lowered it again, he wore a sharp frown of concern. He shouted brusque orders in rapid German, at which the helmsman quickly nodded, and then strode to the rail for another look through the glass.

  “An English ship!” He spoke over his shoulder to Elise. “Sailing from the Netherlands.”

  “Is she . . . one of Drake’s ships?” Elise was almost fearful of asking, knowing what a confrontation with Drake would mean for Nicholas. By his own admission he was not as wealthy as Hilliard and losing his ship and cargo would prove a major blow for him.

  Nicholas fretted in anxious worry. “That elusive devil! Who knows vhere he is now! He has been busy plundering Spain’s vealth ever since Elizabeth gave him leave to sail again. From the Basque ports last summer, to the Cape Verde Islands and the Caribbeans this year, he flits about like a demon possessed. Santiago! Hispaniola! Cartagena! All have fallen beneath his guns! He vill make Philip a pauper yet! And all those who trade vith him! It vould be bitter irony indeed to fall afoul of him!”

  “But surely he’ll let you go free when ‘tis realized you carry an English subject.”

  “Drake is hungry! He vill not stop to ask questions.”

  Nicholas stepped away and barked out orders which sent his men leaping into the rigging to set more sail. He keenly felt the need to wring every bit of speed he could from his vessel. Another shout sounded from the masthead, and almost as one, they turned to see another vessel off the starboard bow. The ship had moved within clear detail while attention was focused on the one astern. Even as they stared, a puff of smoke erupted from her bows and drifted downwind. A geyser of water rose several miles off, but the message was clear. Lay to! Nicholas had no choice but to reduce sail and bring her about, for he had not the guns with which to defend her against two opponents.

  A short time later the English galleons, with their tall
sail-shrouded masts looming large and imposing, came up on either beam of the smaller carrack. The larger of the two drew alongside, and grappling hooks were thrown over the rails to bring the two vessels together. The Hansa captain waited with jaw rigidly set as a boarding party came across.

  The commander of the English vessel was a rather tall, handsome man. He introduced himself as Andrew Sinclair and greeted Nicholas almost cheerily, though that one glowered in mute rage at this offense. “Forgive me for delaying you, Captain,” Sinclair begged, “but having just left the Netherlands, I was wondering if perhaps your ship is one of those which has been supplying Parma’s Spanish troops.” At Nicholas’s look of outrage, he continued pleasantly, “If you are, I must warn you that I’ve no other choice but to seize your ship. Lord Leicester would not approve of your conduct and would most certainly take offense with me if I did not effectively discipline you.”

  Nicholas was not in the mood for such humor. “Yu have obviously taken note that my ship is laden to the maximum draught and, despite the fact that yur suspicion is false, have plans to seize vhat is in her hold on some inane pretext or another. If that be the case, Kapitan, then allow me to show yu vhat ve are carrying.”

  He spoke aside to his mate, and with a sudden grin, that one motioned for another sailor to follow him as he hurried away. As Nicholas and his guests awaited the return of the two, Elise felt the closely perusing eye of the English captain upon her, and when she dared to meet his stare, he readily returned a smile to her coolly questioning gaze.

  Nicholas’s eyes grew icy-blue as he took note of the Englishman’s heightened interest in Elise. He might have yielded her to Maxim’s bold claim, but he would be damned before he would allow the likes of this sea-bound roué to think she was there for the ogling.

  Clearing his throat, Andrew Sinclair turned his eyes from the unspoken challenge in the maid’s eyes and lifted his own aloft to the red flag marked with the white emblem of a tri-towered edifice flying overhead. “You are from Hamburg, Captain?”

  Nicholas was mildly surprised at the man’s knowledge of Hansa flags. “Yu are most perceptive, Kapitan.”

  “We’ve dealt with Hansa vessels before,” Sinclair informed him with a mild sneer. “I’ve learned to recognize their flags. Of particular interest to me are the plain red-and-white flags of Lubeck. They seemed to go in and out of Spanish ports with ease. If you haven’t set sail from the Netherlands and you are obviously not going to Spain, just where are you bound, Captain?”

  “England,” Nicholas acknowledged crisply. “And beyond!”

  Despite his attempt to cast his attention elsewhere, Sinclair returned his gaze to Elise. Her beauty had captured his interest so completely, he was hardpressed to think of leaving the ship without first becoming acquainted with her or, at the very least, learning where she might later be found. “And what of the lady? Is she your wife?”

  “She is an English subject returning to her home.” Nicholas watched the other man carefully, wondering what mischief would come of his infatuation. “I’ve been given the pleasure of escorting her there.”

  “Indeed?” Andrew Sinclair digested the information eagerly. “I would enjoy being introduced to the lady.”

  Nicholas debated the consequences of revealing Elise’s association with Maxim. In England the sentiments against traitors were no doubt rampant with tales of more assassination plots against the Queen being bandied about, and when one considered this fellow’s strong attraction for the lady, it was possible to imagine that Sinclair might seize upon any excuse to take her. Though he sincerely doubted that her father’s name would be as well-known as her husband’s, Nicholas offered it with emphasis, hoping to dissuade the other’s zeal. “This is Elise Radborne, none other than the daughter of Sir Ramsey Radborne.”

  Sinclair recognized the name immediately. “Can she be the same Elise Radborne who was kidnapped from her uncle’s house by the Marquess of Bradbury?”

  Nicholas’s face darkened, and he clasped his hands behind his back, refusing to gratify the man’s curiosity. He had no way of knowing how widespread the reports were of Elise’s capture, but it was obvious her abduction had started many tongues a-wagging.

  The mate and the sailor returned from below deck, and together they heaved a barrel onto the planks. The English captain drew near to watch as they broke open the tops, and even from where she stood Elise sensed the Hansa sailors were up to some chicanery. She saw the mate grin and wink at Nicholas, and in a moment she understood their humor as the mate dipped a hand into the barrel and drew out a piece of dried cod which he waved tauntingly beneath the nose of the Englishman. That one faced away in obvious repugnance, eliciting the loud guffaws of the Hansa seamen.

  “Ve have hogsheads of Hamburg beer, too, Kapitan, if you’d care for a draught,” Nicholas offered with a chuckle, then nodded to where the pair of horses were closely confined between makeshift timbers. “Ve even carry a pair of nags, as yu can see.”

  “You may keep your fish, Captain, and your beer,” Sinclair replied, disdaining the fact that he had been made sport of. There was, however, a way to wipe away the smirks of the Hansa seamen and perhaps win for himself the company of the uncommonly beautiful Mistress Radborne. “And please, let me not be remiss in thanking you for your hospitality, but I regret to inform you that you are under arrest . . .”

  “Vhat?” Nicholas leapt forward a step to shout the question in the other’s face and, in seething agitation, he slashed his hand back and forth as if to negate the other’s statement. “Yu have no authority to seize my ship, at least not by any lawful means! I don’t care if yu carry a missive directly from yur queen. This is not England! So if ‘tis piracy yu have set yurself to, then let it be called that and naught else!”

  Andrew smirked with lofty confidence, satisfied that he had turned the tables on the other captain. “You have aboard your ship valuable cargo . . . an Englishwoman, known to have been abducted by a traitor to the queen. How she came to be in your possession I cannot even presume to guess, but I’ve heard that her uncle has pleaded with the Queen to deal firmly with those responsible for her kidnapping. Though the royal sovereign still debates the matter amid the outcry of the lady’s kin, I’d be remiss in my duties if I allowed any opportunity to save Mistress Radborne to slip past unheeded. Therefore, I must insist upon your arrest. I shall put a crew aboard your vessel, and you and your men will be taken prisoner and held in irons aboard my ship until we reach England.”

  “This is an abomination of all the laws of the sea . . . !” Nicholas protested. “I’m taking the lady home! Not kidnapping her!”

  “There’s not the least touch of truth in your claims!” Elise avowed, incensed that Andrew Sinclair could use her presence as an excuse to arrest Nicholas. “I bade Captain Von Reijn to take me home. Should he now be punished because he agreed?”

  “If that be the case, madam, then I shall be happy to escort you to my ship, and Captain Von Reijn may have leave to go his way.”

  “Damnation!” Nicholas roared. “I vill not allow it! I vould sooner be arrested than let her go vith the likes of yu!”

  “Nicholas, please.” Elise attempted to soothe his rage. “ ‘Tis but a simple thing . . .”

  “Yu have been placed in my charge, Elise, and I vill not see yu seized for my comfort.” He drew her away and lowered his voice to a murmur as he spoke with firm conviction. “I failed yu once. It vould cause great conifict in my heart and mind to do so again.”

  “You needn’t fret so about me, Nicholas. I can take care of myself . . .”

  He shook his head in sharp disagreement. “Yu could not in the kontor; yu cannot here. If Captain Sinclair takes it in mind that he vants yu, yu cannot stop him! Who can judge if he is a gentleman in so few moments?”

  “Spence and Fitch would go with me . . .”

  The Hansa captain snorted in derision as he directed her gaze toward the two who had hunkered down near Eddy’s small stall. Their pallor was
tinged with a greenish hue, and beneath sagging lids their eyes were dull and doleful. Neither looked capable of handling themselves, much less the Englishman. If Nicholas ventured a guess, he would say both were presently battling an unsteady gorge. “The responsibility of yur safety was given me, Elise, and I cannot entrust it to another. As to that pair, ere ve veighed anchor both vere hanging their heads over the rail.”

  Nicholas’s features hardened as he stepped back to the Englishman, and when he spoke, his voice held a caustic sneer. “Since England is my destination in any case, Kapitan Sinclair, I’ve no objection being escorted there by yu, but if yu intend to imprison me or my men ere ve arrive . . . or take the Lady Elise aboard yur ship, I must refuse yur hospitality . . . in vhatever fashion may become necessary.” Sinclair opened his mouth and would have made protest, but Nicholas held up a hand to halt his threats. “Consider that yu have the ships to outdistance me and the guns to halt me should I be so foolish as to attempt an escape. ‘Tis a simple thing to be escorted to England; ‘tis not cheap to rebuild a splintered ship.”

  “Your point is well taken,” Captain Sinclair conceded, recognizing the stubbornness of the Hansa captain. A confrontation would likely result in a bloody conflict, which, with the Englishwoman to bear witness, would likely result in a situation wherein he could be held to account. It seemed his course had been drawn for him, for he could neither blow the Hansa ship out of the water nor dismiss his threats against the captain without appearing the fool. “And your parole is accepted. I will lie off your windward beam with a broadside ready until we reach the Thames, then I will drop astern and follow after.”