Staring into the green eyes that mirrored mine, I saluted my father and said, “It would be my honor, Captain Bentley.”
Patting my shoulder, he said, “You did good today, Sterling.”
I scratched my head. “I suppose. Thanks for, uh, you know, getting that toothless man for me.”
Wiping the blood from his sword, he chuckled, “I didn’t see his lack of teeth. All I knew was that he was going to kill my navigator, and I couldn’t have that.” He winked while putting his sword back in its scabbard.
Appreciating the way he’d defended me, but had enough respect for my role in his crew to make light of his heroism, I thanked him again.
As I followed him to the captain’s cabin, eyes locked on the way his long brown ponytail hung between his broad shoulders, I thought back on all the tales I had heard about his legend. There were stories of how he wasn’t born like a normal man, but rose from the ocean, wielding a sword forged of minerals from the darkest part of the sea. There were myths about how he could command storms to blockade his adversaries from making chase after his ship. And even a few tales about how he could beckon the men he had killed and coerce their ghosts into doing his bidding.
Some of these tales were relayed to me in taverns or during late nights at sea, by the sailors who glorified his exploits to scare each other. And others I learned through the whimpered begging of his foes, who didn’t want their limbs to end up in the rum jars where he supposedly pickled his victim’s severed parts.
I had always been enamored by Mason Bentley’s saga, what young man wouldn’t be? Yet, in my heart I knew that he was simply a brave sea captain whose crew would follow him to Hell and back. I also knew that he at times met with leaders—sea rogues and noblemen alike—who looked to him with respect and turned to him for advice. But beyond business, and at his core, he was a man whose heart belonged to my mother who I never knew, and was a father to me, his one and only child that he was strong enough to raise on his own.
My father, who I was now proud to call my friend, filled many roles and constantly awed me with his diverse capabilities. But none of the ridiculous myths or personal accounts would ever live up to what I saw today, for this was the first time I witnessed the legend in action.
Entering the room where the information we were seeking would most likely be hidden, I looked to him and asked, “So, the tales are true, huh? My father is indeed the revered buccaneer captain who is such a menace to Spain that they dubbed him as The Devil of the Sea?”
Heading straight for the captain’s sea chest, he laughed, “You didn’t believe it?”
“Well, I just, you know...I guess I am just impressed. But I sure hope you don’t truly keep your victims limbs in rum jars, or have ghosts to do your bidding.”
Laying his hand on the locked sea chest, he looked into my eyes. His face hardened with a stoic expression as he said, “Don’t believe everything you hear, Sterling. But keep in mind that behind every legend, there’s a bit of truth. And sometimes, that truth is more fascinating than the myth.”
X
King of My
Nightmare
As Told By Mason Bentley
Part I
Grassy Meadows
Exeter, England
Summer of 1639
Chapter 1
Fighting in the Field
Feeling the riseand fall of Bridget’s bare chest beneath my cheek, I took a moment to catch the breath she took away from me. With her long legs wrapped around my back, and her floral fragrance enchanting my soul, I felt like I never wanted to move again. My state of euphoric exhaustion deepened when she started humming. The way her melody harmonized with the afternoon breeze blowing through the trees had me thinking I felt more for her than I did.
Once she started playing with my hair, I opened my eyes and gazed upon her pretty face. Warm rays of sunlight shone through the canopy overhead, dancing across her body in a way that emphasized the contrast between her pale white skin and the golden tan of mine. Though I thought she looked something like a mythical goddess lying there beneath me, I knew damn well she was nothing of the sort.
While I eyed her over, she tickled my nose with the tip of my braid and sighed, “I love the way the ends of your brown hair lighten in the summer sun.”
Not wanting to say a word of what I was thinking—the good or the bad—I simply kissed her cheek and hugged her tight.
She giggled. “I like you, Mason. I think you’re the sweetest boy in town.”
“Sweetest?” I laughed. “You say that like you’ve never seen me fighting in the fields.”
“Ah, I’ve watched you fight plenty of times, but I know it’s usually to defend your sister. I also see the way you open doors for ladies and I know you help Mister Smith take care of the yard at church. It’s plain to see that you have a good heart. All of us girls know it, and we talk about you all the time. Now that we’re of marrying age, we’ve been arguing over who will get to be your wife.”
I knew that time was coming for the girls my age, but at fourteen years old I still had plenty of free years ahead of me. “Eh, I’m nowhere near ready to start thinking about that.”
Tickling down the muscles lining my spine, she purred, “Well, at least I’m the one lucky enough to have you this way in the meantime.”
Closing my eyes again, I just chuckled. She was the only girl I’d been with this way, and though I knew I wasn’t the only one she was doing this with, I couldn’t help but wonder if she talked to the others so sweetly. Regardless of what I wondered about her motives with me, or who she’d be with later this eve, I was more than happy to grant her current favors when she pushed me up, slid her legs over my shoulders, and said, “Again.”
X
Walking down the dirt road between the fields, without a care in the world, I enjoyed the way the breeze moved through the green grass and reminisced the hour I’d spent with Bridget. My mind adrift with lustful memories, I rounded the corner to the road that would lead me to town. I’d promised to meet my twin sister Lace and her friend Alice in the alleyway behind the church just after two, and according to the toll of the church bell, I had made it right on time.
My pleasant mood was roughly interrupted by the sight of Lace running towards me with tears in her eyes. Alice was nowhere in sight, but the older boys, who spent their free time causing trouble in the alley, were laughing and pointing at her as she wept. I didn’t like that at all.
Throwing her arms around my neck, Lace cried, “Where were you? Where were you?”
“I was in the field, with Bridget. You know that. Where’s Alice?” I looked around as I hugged her.
“She had to go home. She went home,” Lace sniffled, then slightly turned her gaze toward the boys she was running away from. “Mean. He’s mean.”
My twin sister was one of the prettiest girls in town, so all the boys liked to flirt with her, but she was so simple-minded that the slightest advance would send her running to me for defense. By now, I had used my fists to teach the younger boys that it was best not to bother her, but with the way her body had blossomed over the last year, the young men in town had begun taking interest in her as well. This meant I was going to have to teach them the same lesson.
Holding her tight, I stared at them from across the alley as I whispered to her, “What happened? Which one was bothering you?”
Backing out of my arms, she wiped her tears and pointed at the tall, bulky redhead.
“Billy Winston?!” My body tensed up. “Ah, Lace, I can’t fight him. Not only is he three times my size, but he’s pummeled everyone he’s ever fought.”
Appearing displeased with my answer, she shook her head until more tears fell down her cheeks.
“What exactly did he do?” I asked, so I knew what to say to him.
She lowered her head and started scratching her arm. “He pinched me.”
“He pinched you where?”
“Here.” She pointed to her arse.
A wrathful fog rolled through my mind, clouding over my current view of Billy Winston. In the blur, I pictured all the bullying he had done over the years. I’d seen him pushing younger boys around, as well as some of his own friends, and I’d taken note of the shitten way he treated the girls. But he’d never again treat my sister like that. Never, ever again.
Without realizing I’d charged in his direction, I suddenly found myself shoving him away from the fence he was leaning against.
He pushed me back. “What are you so sore about, Mason?” His force was so strong I almost fell over.
“Don’t you ever touch my sister again!” I hollered as I swung a punch at his face.
As quick as a cat, he moved his head out of my range.
I missed.
Of all the fights I’d been in, why did I have to miss during this one?
While I struggled to regain my footing from the miscalculated blow, Billy landed a solid and successful punch across my jaw. The humiliation hurt worse than the hit itself. My shame deepened when he tackled me to the ground and shoved my face in the dirt.
“I’ll do what I want with your saucy little sister.” Billy Winston chortled as he rubbed my face against the ground. I heard his friends laughing behind him. Dust was clogging my nose. His hand was wrapped so tight in my long hair I thought he was going to pull my scalp from my skull. But it was his demeaning laughter that cut me to the core. I fought, I yelled, I tried to break free, but before I made any progress, that son of a bitch grabbed a handful of dirt and shoved it in my mouth.
As I choked on silt and pebbles, he let loose of my hair and stood up. Kicking me across the side, he snarled, “Stay down there where you belong, Mason Bentley.”
Getting up on my knees, I spit out the dirt. Through my watery eyes, I watched Billy walk over and slap Lace across the arse.
No.
This wasn’t over.
Fueled by a dangerous mix of hatred and shame, I leapt to my feet. Roaring like a beast, I ran after that bastard and tackled him to the ground. Refusing to fail again, I grabbed him by the collar and proceeded to punch him again and again. This time he was the one kicking and flailing, but as a strange surprise, he cried and screamed as he took his beating.
“Stop it! Stop it!” he wailed, but I couldn’t stop.
“Leave him alone, Bentley.” I faintly heard one of his friends say, but I couldn’t leave him alone. Even once I saw blood flowing from his nose—so much that it began coating his teeth as he screamed—I kept hitting him.
Eventually someone grabbed me by the collar. As my feet lost contact with the ground, I heard my grandfather Sterling’s voice.
“That’s enough!” he roared as he pitched me against the fence.
Grandfather yelled at the kids who had been wordlessly stunned by the bloody fight, “Go home!” When they didn’t respond, he picked up a shovel and pointed it at them like a sword. “Every one of you better get off to your houses before I drag you there by the hair.”
With that, they fled, leaving Billy in his pathetic puddle of blood.
“That means you, too.” Grandfather picked Billy up the same way he’d done to me. Swatting Billy’s arse with the shovel, he sent the bully in the direction of his house.
Turning to face me—long grey hair blowing wildly in the wind, and strapping chest heaving beneath his surprisingly clean shirt—Grandfather pointed his shovel at my face. “Where’s your sister?”
Looking around in a panic, I realized Lace was gone. Lace had been known to hide when I fought like this, but it had never taken this long to spot her out. The rapidity of my heartbeat had me thinking it would explode in my chest. Just before I was going to confess that I’d lost her, I saw her huddled up in the far corner of the alley.
“She’s over there,” I heaved, short of breath and light in the head.
Running to her, alongside my grandfather, I took note of the way she trembled while wildly scratching at her arm. She did that when she was scared, but this time she was shaking so badly she looked crazed.
Grandfather knelt before her and took her hands. “It’s all right, my darling. Come with me and everything will be fine.”
Shaking like a leaf on a tree and covered in tears, she raised her arm and pointed at me. “Blood.”
I looked down at my shirt. It was covered in blood.
While Grandfather helped her up, he comforted, “It’s all right, sweetheart. Mason’s all right and so are you. Let’s get going home, now.”
While holding her close and stroking her hair, he looked at me with a threatening fire burning in his deep green eyes. Pointing in the direction of home, he growled, “Go.”
Walking toward our wagon—my chest heaving and my muscles swollen from the rush—I realized I still had dirt in my mouth. Spitting out the bitter taste of gravel and hatred, I began to dread what punishment awaited me at home.
With the worrisome thoughts running wild in my mind, the wagon ride through town seemed to take forever. The looks I got from the townsfolk didn’t make it any better. Every elder I passed looked at my battered face and bloodstained clothes with judgmental eyes. Unwilling to be shamed by their distaste for what I had done, I held my shoulders proud. The girls who supposedly argued about who would get to marry me, stared with fearful expressions as we went by. But once I passed I heard their giddy whispers ensue. And the boys, well, the curiosity in their gazes assured me that I’d have a million questions to answer later on.
But what happened later on would all depend on what my grandfather would have to say once we got home.
X
Coming upon the fence surrounding our property, I opened the gate for Lace, as grandfather taught me to always do. She looked at me with apologetic eyes. I smiled to let her know everything was all right as I fanned my hand to welcome her down the dirt path that led to our little house made of stone and wood.
Once we reached the covered porch, Grandfather tapped my chin and made me look at him. “Give that bloodstained shirt to your sister to wash and then go clean your filthy face. Both of you will meet me at the supper table once you are done.”
After washing my aching face, I untied my tangled braid and combed out my hair. Propping up the hand mirror my grandfather gifted to my grandmother before I was born, I gazed upon my foggy and hazy reflection to examine the damage done. The first thing I noticed was the massive black bruise under my right eye, and how the white surrounding my deep green iris was bloodshot red. Beyond that, my bold nose was swollen and blood had dried over my upper lip. As I cleaned up with a damp rag, I eyed the scratch marks on my cheeks. Some of the open wounds were stuffed with pebbles. Once I had the dried blood cleaned off my face, I did my best to pluck them out. Figuring I’d have to get Lace to do the rest of it for me, I braided my hair and went on my way.
Meeting my grandfather in the dim lit family room, I took a deep breath and sat across from him at the table he and I built last spring. While tapping his fingers on the table, he stared at me for what seemed like forever. The silence was unnerving, but I didn’t dare speak a word before he did.
Once Lace came in from the yard, where she had hung my clean shirt on the line, she sat at the other end of the table.
“Now,” Grandfather finally spoke up, “What the hell happened out there, Mason?”
Eager to defend my motive for fighting, but nervous to get caught for abandoning my responsibilities, I mumbled my response, “Well, Lace told me...”
“Look at me when you speak to me, boy.”
Making eye contact with him, I instantly felt like the man he was raising me to be. With my shoulders straight and my head held high, I told him why I’d attacked Billy Winston.
Stroking his long, grey goatee, Grandfather let out a slow exhale. “I’ve seen the shitten way that Winston boy treats his friends, but I had no idea he was a dog with the lassies. There’s a special place in Hell for men who mistreat women and children, and knowing Billy was so rude to my pretty little girl makes
me want to send him there, myself.” Staring off into space, with the desire for demolition blazing in his eyes, he punched his fist into his palm.
Snapping out of his vengeful trance, he said, “It’s about time somebody beat some sense into that boy. I’m proud of you for being the one who’d done it, but tell me, Mason, where were you when this cursed bum pinching occurred?”
Damn it. I had just started to think I was in the clear. “Oh, uh, I was…”
Lace tapped my shoulder. “You were in the field…remember? With Bridget Dudley, remember?”
“What?!” Grandfather slammed his hand on the table. “You left your sister alone with those terrible boys while you were off raising Hell with the town tramp?”
Not wanting to agree with the way he said it, I stuttered, “No. Well…I didn’t leave her with them. She was with Alice but…Ah, why did you tell him that, Lace? I just spent my sweat and blood defending your honor and—”
Jumping to his feet, grandfather reached across the table and popped me in the mouth. “How dare you roar at your sister for unveiling your indecency! As a man you’ll take full ownership of your actions, and if you don’t like your truth, then by God, you change it.”
Far more affected by his words than the pain of that slap, I sat up straight and nodded. “Yes, sir.”
With a frustrated shake of his head he sat back down and laid his face in his hands.
After a long, slow, inhale, he lifted his head and stared me cold in the eyes. “It doesn’t matter who she was with, Mason. She wasn’t with you. You know the rules. It’s your job to watch over Lace as well as I would, and you know damned well I’d never do a thing like that. I’m utterly infuriated that you not only betrayed my trust, but defiled your God-given manhood in such a shameful manner.”
King of My Nightmare (King of My Nightmare, Book 1): Endless Horizon Pirate Stories Page 2