by J. N. Cao
The Pirate’s Map
J.N. Cao
Copyright © 2018 J.N. Cao
All rights reserved.
CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright
Prologue
1. Sir Devon's Findings
2. The Sailor
3. Stealing the Keys
4. The Study
5. The Journey
6. The Duke's Plot
7. A Companion
8. Balwyn
9. The Manor
10. The Rescue
11. To Oxford
12. Sir Laurence's Proposal
13. Oxford Palace
14. Walter Cooke and the Rebels
15. Crumbling Hope
16. Leaving Oxford Palace
17. Truths Revealed
18. Balwyn Again
19. The Duke Returns
20. The Expedition
21. The Storm
22. The Cave
23. Leaving the Cave
24. The Duke Interferes
25. Through the English Channel
Epilogue
During the late 16th century, in an alternative timeline not so different from ours, England was divided into two city states. North England, ruled by Queen Isabel, and South England, ruled by King Anthony II. The capital of South England was Esterwall.
People of the South always enjoy a story
Especially ones with battles and glory
Some were imagined and some were true
But here is one that many knew
There was once a pirate so notorious
So vile they called him Victor the Vicious
A merciless killer greedy for gold
He slays and steals from young and old
But that is not all he was known for
He found treasure never seen before
Found in a cave while he was exploring
Enough gold to be richer than a king
All was too much for his ship to carry
So he took some gold and sailed the sea
Soon his ship was wrecked by stormy weather
All drowned along with the map to his treasure
Chapter 1
Sir Devon’s Findings
The Chamberlain hurried through the vast hallway of Esterwall Palace as fast as his short legs could carry him. Soon he arrived at the chamber hall at the end of the hallway. Muffled sounds of music and laughter came through the chamber hall’s door. The Chamberlain panted outside the door and then turned to a guard.
“I need to speak to the King,” he said.
“Shall I announce you?” the guard said.
“No need. His Majesty won’t hear you anyway, just let me through.”
The guard opened the door and in went the Chamberlain. The King’s party was in full swing. The Chamberlain saw the blindfolded King Anthony II in the distance—a young king almost twenty-eight—trying to catch several women around him. The women laughed and shrieked as they ran away.
Then the Chamberlain walked past the long table, which was laden with fine food and drink. Some of the King’s subjects were at the table. Some were feasting, some cracked jokes, some were quarrelling, others gambling and some had passed out drunk.
Finally, the Chamberlain made his way to the King and before he knew it, the King grabbed him by the shoulders.
“Ah ha! I got you now,” the King said.
“Your ——” the Chamberlain said.
The King had already cupped his hand over the Chamberlain’s mouth. “Shhh! I think I can guess who you are by a kiss.”
As the King’s face leaned in with puckered lips, the Chamberlain quickly pulled the cloth off the King’s eyes. The eyes shot wide open and the King froze at the sight of the Chamberlain, who then gave a foolish smile. Then the King let go of the Chamberlain as if he was a slimy frog and threw himself backwards, staggering as he did so.
“Chamberlain! You ruined my game. I can have you hanged for this,” the King said.
The Chamberlain dropped to his knees. “Forgive me, Your Majesty, but I have something important to report.”
“Chamberlain, I am not in the mood to hear anything at the moment. Especially, bad news.”
“But Sire, this is very urgent.”
“I will hear none of it,” said the King as he waved his hand at the Chamberlain. “I am already upset that I can’t go hunting today because of the rain. Now go wait in the corner over there until I call for you.”
The Chamberlain sighed as he followed the order.
“Turn around, Chamberlain. I don’t want to see your hideous face,” the King said from across the room. Then everyone but the Chamberlain roared with laughter.
The next morning, the King woke up in his bed with a terrible headache.
“Morning, Your Majesty,” said his cheerful groom as he came to the bed.
“Oh, I need something for this headache.”
“Right away, Sire.” Then the groom left the room.
Several moments later the Chamberlain and the groom entered the bedchamber. The groom served the King a liquid remedy and then went to prepare the King’s clothes.
“Your Majesty, may I now discuss some very important matters with you?” said the Chamberlain.
“All right, go on then,” said the King, and then he gulped down all the liquid in the cup. He made a grimace at the taste.
“Sire, we are near bankrupt!” cried the Chamberlain.
“Bankrupt?” said the King. “What are you talking about? Only last month you said that I have enough money for the remaining year until the next tax collection.”
“Yes, Sire, but the palace in Oxford has already used up a lot of money and ——”
“You told me that I would have enough money left, did you not?” the King interrupted.
“Yes, but then you asked for it to be extended to 100 more rooms, plus have a golden statue of Your Majesty built in front of the palace.”
“Then why didn’t you stop me?” said the King. “I can have you beheaded for not stopping me.”
“Well, I tried, Sire. But you said that you would behead anyone who tried to stop you.”
“Oh, I said that?”
The Chamberlain nodded with a simpering smile.
“Oh well, just increase the taxes,” said the King.
“But you already have, Sire.”
“Well, then increase them some more,” said the King in a louder voice. “Also, I think I should create some new taxes … let’s see, I want a tax on windows, gardens, horses, cows … Have you got this down?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” said the Chamberlain as he quickly started to write in his book.
Then the King continued, “Err … oh, a tax on fireplaces.”
“That’s not going to be good for the citizens during the winter, Sire.”
“They’ll be fine. It will only be a few months,” said the King as he stretched his neck.
“Ah Sire, the treasury had advised that it would be helpful if you could cut down on the number of parties that you have been throwing. Perhaps it’s not necessary to have a party every time you killed a deer, or win a bet, or ——”
The Chamberlain had just realised the King was glaring at him. “But of course, they can sort themselves out on that,” he finished with a nervous laugh.
Then the King got out of bed and the groom started to dress him. “Good, that’s settled for now, but I might have to think about conquering a country if we continue to run out of money.”
“Or perhaps you could marry Queen Isabel from North England to avoid war, Sire. War is expensive, and you could avoid killing innocents,” said the Chamberlain.
“How does she look now?” the King asked.
The groo
m quickly brought in an oil painting of Queen Isabel to the King.
“Ahh! No, no. War it is, then, when my kingdom is dry of money. I may have to discuss this further with the Duke.”
“But Sire, Queen Isabel’s army is not easy to …”
“That’s enough for now, Chamberlain. Now, how do I look?” The King posed in his finest attire.
Later that night, on the other side of the stately castle of Esterwall, the Duke arrived at the east quarter dungeon. He was a tall and lean man, in his early fifties. He had dark brown hair lightly streaked with grey.
“Your Grace,” Sir Devon greeted the Duke. “I apologise to call you at this hour but I have something you must see.”
“I hope it’s good news,” said the Duke as he sat down on a wooden chair.
“A month ago, when I was about to leave Portugal, I came across this,” said Sir Devon, and he produced a gold coin.
The Duke examined the coin. It was half the size of his palm and had markings that he never seen before.
Sir Devon continued, “A fisherman had found several of these coins in his fishing net. So I hired him and several divers to fish out anything they could find within the area that he was fishing. After several days, we found this.”
Sir Devon lifted a tattered chest from the table behind him. Its rusted lock had already been broken. He then opened the chest before the Duke, and inside was more of the same coins and a dark olive glass bottle closed by a cork.
The Duke reached for the transparent glass bottle and held it to his eyes. It was empty.
“Yes, what I really wanted to show you was found in that bottle,” said Sir Devon. Then he handed a map to the Duke. The Duke studied the map for a moment. At first glance, the map was nothing special to him. It was plain, with no titles or headings, only continents and oceans. But then he noticed a dotted line that led to a small paragraph. He read it, and then turned to Sir Devon. “Is this really the map to Victor Harte’s treasure?”
“Yes, I believe it is, because inside the bottle was also this letter from Victor Harte to his wife,” said Sir Devon as he passed the letter to the Duke.
The letter read:
Cecilia
I found a cave filled with so much gold. You will not beleive your eyes if you saw it. But on my way back Edward Howard captured my ship and somehow already knows about my gold. Howard has spaired my life so that I can take him back to the cave. The jerney will be long. Many more months until I see you again. At least you will know what happend to me.
Victor
(Note: Many people were not great spellers back then)
Then he flipped the letter to the back and saw that it had ‘Cecilia Harte’ and her address underneath. “So we have finally found it,” said the Duke. “And your crew knows about this, yes?”
“Not yet. Just me, Your Grace. They are aware that I took the chest, amongst the other treasures found. But they don’t know that there was a map inside.”
“Good. Like I’ve said, this assignment is to be kept secret,” said the Duke. Then he smiled. “I’ve waited years for this. You have done well, Sir Devon. I will award you a piece of land in Howling and, of course, a share in the treasure.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
Chapter 2
The Sailor
The Duke’s estate was situated just on the edge of the town centre, a short walk from the palace. A tall stone wall fringed his impressive manor. Two guards and a hound always stood at the front entrance of the wall. The Duke’s manor not only stocked some of his most priced processions, but occasionally he would bring home work that was kept private from the palace.
A young maid stood outside the manor, holding a broomstick. She wore a bonnet that covered most of her dark hair. She was not sweeping but was just staring aimlessly above her.
“Matilda,” called a voice. “Matilda.”
“Matilda Burley!” cried the woman. It was Miss Abbott, the Duke’s housekeeper who had just stepped out of the manor’s door. She was a chubby woman in her fifties.
“Yes, Miss Abbott,” said Matilda.
“Why are you just standing there all draft when I told you to sweep the porch?” said Miss Abbott.
“I’m sorry, Miss Abbott,” said Matilda as she started to sweep.
“If I see you off in your daydreams again, I’ll get rid of you.”
“It won’t happen again,” Matilda said.
“And when you’re done with that I want you to go to the market and get me a fresh, plump chicken,” Miss Abbott said. “The delivery man is sick again, and I need a chicken now.”
“Yes, Miss Abbott,” Matilda said and took the money from the housekeeper.
A few years before, when King Anthony I ruled, the marketplace was lively with an abundance of goods and services from honest sellers. It was a common place for many friendly faces to gather for a merry chat. After the new king took the throne, it was still bustling. That is, beggars were on almost every street. A dense crowd was a hotspot for pickpockets. Goods and services had lost their quality because of greedy sellers, and now many spent more time arguing with their customers than selling.
Matilda held her money tight as she walked through the marketplace. She had already had it stolen by a pickpocket before and had missed out on a week’s pay because of it. She strode to Mr Paddington’s butcher stand.
“Could I please have a fresh, plump chicken?” she said at the counter.
“All right, just a moment,” said Mr Paddington as he went to get a featherless chicken.
Matilda turned around and noticed two men watching her. They quickly averted their eyes when they realised that she noticed them. Their clothes were untidy and their beards untamed. She remembered them from yesterday, when they followed her home.
Feeling nervous, Matilda turned back to see where Mr Paddington was up to with her order. “There you go, a whole plump chicken. That will be five pence.”
“Five? It was three pence only last week,” said Matilda.
“Aye, taxes have gone up, and five is the cheapest around here. You’re not going to get anything better.”
“Fine,” said Matilda as she fished for another two pence from her pocket and added it to the rest of the money that Miss Abbott had given her.
Matilda worked in the Duke’s household every day, from sunrise to late evening. She did not live in the estate like Miss Abbott. Every night Matilda walked to her house located on the outskirts of town, where several small houses were scattered along a road.
When she arrived home that evening, she saw her grandfather sitting at the table with a letter in front of him. Grandfather Tom was very old and had a kind face that usually showed a cheerful grin. But when he saw Matilda walked through the door, his eyes were wide with fear.
“Matilda, Matilda …” said Grandfather Tom in a quivering voice.
“What is it, Grandpapa?”
Grandfather Tom held up the letter in his trembling hand. “They got your uncle and Roger.”
“Who got them?” said Matilda and took the letter.
Before she could read a word, Roger’s wife, Martha, a woman of just thirty with blonde hair, hurried downstairs carrying baby Luke.
“Oh Matilda, you’re here. It’s terrible,” said Martha.
“Hold on, I haven’t read the letter,” said Matilda.
Luke began to cry, and Martha soothed him.
The letter read:
Matilda
We have Ralph and Roger with us. Come and see us or else expec to just recieve their heads. Come aloan to the wharf and wait at the first pier tonite.
At first, Matilda was shocked with fear; the writers sounded like violent crooks. Then she was confused; she was not wealthy and never got into trouble with anyone. So she wondered what they would want from her.
“Do you think they really got uncle and Roger?” asked Matilda.
“Yes, look. This came with the letter,” said Martha as she pointed to two different shoes on the
chair. Martha then picked up a lock of hair from inside Roger’s shoe. “It’s his all right.”
Matilda looked inside the other shoe, which she recognised to be Ralph’s, and saw a lock of curly, light-brown hair which she was certain belonged to her uncle.
“Then I must go to them,” said Matilda.
“I’ll come with you,” said Martha.
“That’s right. It’s not safe for you to go alone,” added Grandfather Tom.
Matilda nodded in agreement.
“Here Grandpapa, mind Luke for me,” said Martha.
When Matilda and Martha arrived at the wharf it was dark and a thin cloud loomed over the moon. A few lights came from a ship docked at a pier far from where they were. The air was cold and salty. Their hooded cloaks were all they had to keep them warm.
They started to make their way to the first pier. There were no lights, so it got darker as they approached. They could make out the silhouette of a small ship, docked at the end of the pier.
“I suppose we just wait here,” said Matilda.
“Do they even know we’re here? There’s no sign of anyone around,” said Martha.
“Well, they just said tonight without a specific time,” said Matilda. I wonder how they will know that we have arrived. I don’t suppose they are in one of these ships?”
“Could they be pirates?” Martha said under her breath.
“I don’t know,” said Matilda.
They both held onto each other’s arm to keep warm, and to calm their nerves.
Just then a small light appeared at the other end of the pier. It started to move towards Matilda and Martha. As it approached, they could hear footsteps drawing nearer.
Finally, standing before them was a scruffy man. He held the lamp outwards.
“You Matilda?” he asked in a gruff voice.
“Yes.”
“We said come alone.”
“She is Roger’s wife.”