“Aye, Captain,” Fiel replied.
“Ramiro,” she cried, as her First Mate rushed to her side. “You are a godsend! How did you come to be in these waters?”
The softly spoken navigator looked confused. “We saw Tom Flint taken aboard the Excalibur and assumed you were with them. We’ve been tracking the English since they left Beirut. We didn’t know anything until we saw your scarf on the flagpole.”
A sailor offered Harissa a blanket, but she brushed it aside. “There’s still work to be done here! All hands, prepare to board the Excalibur!”
The Masala circled back once more to close on the floundering English warship. Both crews exchanged musket fire as the galley came alongside, and grappling irons were cast over the waves, locking the two ships together. Kidd grabbed a boarding rope and prepared to swing across.
Fiel drew his sabre “Remember our agreement. Good luck!”
Kidd grabbed a rope, swung over the bulwark, and onto the hard slippery surface of the Excalibur’s deck.
The battle was chaotic, pistols cracked, swords clashed, and everywhere men shouted as they were wounded or slain. Kidd launched himself into the fray, smashing his way through any man that stood in his way. The desire to lay his hands on Hamilton Rush or Tom Flint consumed all other thought. He forgot his metal hands and imagined having a sabre in one and a pistol in the other. The English sailors fell before him. Yes, this was like the old days, before the incident at the church on the hill, the days when he was truly formidable.
He saw Flint, standing on the deck, a primed pistol in his hand.
“Don’t force me to kill you, Will! Just give up!”
“Never!”
Flint shook his head sadly, and the click of a firing pin followed like the slow movement of an enormous clock preparing to strike the hour. Flint pulled the trigger, the powder ignited in the priming pan with a dull boom, and a red hot lead ball departed the barrel. Flint never missed at this range. He was a creature of habit, always seeking the same killing shot, right between the eyes.
Kidd raised a hand to his forehead as soon as Flint pulled the trigger. The pistol ball struck him squarely in the palm, and bounced away, unable to breach the steel plates. He lowered his hand. “Not even you can reload fast enough to take a second shot.”
Flint bounded across the deck. He vaulted the gunwale and fell into the sea to disappear amongst the waves.
Kidd turned and saw Hamilton Rush with a bloody sabre in his hand, calling for challengers to fight him. At least six men lay dead at his feet.
The battle raged on, but no one was prepared to fight Hamilton Rush. “Come on, cowards!” His voice was resonant with power, and he wore The Tears around his neck for all to see.
Kidd stepped past the reluctant sailors. “Let’s settle this once and for all.”
Rush grinned and exposed his teeth, now as white and perfect as the day they first emerged from his gums. “I’ve looked forward to this for a long time, William.”
“So have I.” Kidd loosened his shoulders and balled his fists.
Rush lowered his sabre. “Do you intend to fight me with your fists?” He cackled with glee. “Iron William Kidd has lost both his sword and his wits!” He slid a finger under The Tears and held it up for Kidd to see. “And while this hangs around my neck, I am invincible.”
“Show me.”
Rush leapt toward him with remarkable speed, flourishing his blade in wide arcs. Kidd retreated, avoiding the razor sharp tip for as long as he could. He blocked numerous strokes with his forearms, but was unable to wrench the sabre from Rush’s grasp. Rush was a better swordsman than most and couldn’t be defeated by sheer brawn alone. The rage ran hot in Kidd’s belly. There were just too many smug teeth in Rush’s jaw. He wanted to pound them all loose. Rush continued to jab and thrust, taking pleasure in seeing Kidd shy away.
Kidd focused on the flashing tip of the blade. It reminded him of Vllen’s stubby finger poking him in the chest during all those lectures about patience. He had forgotten the most important lesson Vllen had tried to teach him. A sense of calm replaced his fury. He watched his enemy and waited.
Rush’s blade drew ever closer and Kidd lurched across the deck. He backed into a mast. With a deft flourish, Rush cut Kidd’s cheek and slashed his chest. Kidd narrowly avoided the stroke that would have skewered him through the heart. Rush shook his head and lowered his blade. “At least you could make a show of it. It seems a shame after all these years, to have to put you down like a dog.”
Kidd staggered forward with fists raised, but Rush was alert, his sabre flicking into the guard position. Kidd lunged, but it was too late. As he fell upon his enemy, Kidd felt the blade pass through his torso and out the other side. A smile spread across Rush’s face, and he drove the blade deeper.
Kidd felt detached as the blade passed through him. There was barely any pain, just a dull burn as his body felt the steel. His thoughts went to Bay. This must have been how the Moor had felt when he had got his death wound. Kidd’s vision left him and the world began to spin as if he had been drinking rum all night.
How odd...
Rush pushed the blade through Kidd’s stomach up to the hilt and whispered in his ear. “And now, William, you are beaten.”
Kidd’s mind wandered and the deck of the Excalibur faded from his sight. He was engulfed in bright light. Was this the afterlife? He looked down. No, he was in Vllen’s garden, in the orange grove. He was hot, thirsty, and standing on the stump, enduring Vllen’s meaningless test. His body ached terribly and all he wanted to do was step down and go to bed. How long did he have to endure this exercise? He focused his mind and scrutinized the gnarled stump properly for the first time. It was very old, with roots too deep to be pulled from the earth. He felt his feet cramp and his muscles ache in protest. Curse this awful test! Vllen had told him it was a personal journey. What journey?
He could almost hear Vllen speak. “I would remind you again that reckless action can lead to dire consequences, even when your intentions are good. I hope you understand that these lessons were not simply about how to break boards with your fists. Tread the path with clarity of vision and an open mind.”
He closed his eyes and concentrated on his mutilated hands, now encased with armour. They ached so, but he forced them to make a fist, as slowly and gently as he could manage.
His vision cleared and he felt the Excalibur’s deck beneath his feet again. He pressed both fists against Rush’s chest and pushed until he was separated from the sabre.
Rush seemed pleasantly amused. His guard down, Kidd punched him squarely on the jaw. Rush lurched with the blow, but kept his composure and his sword. “Excellent,” he laughed. “I do like the fox to give a little sport before the dogs tear it apart.”
Kidd opened his fist. “Hamilton, I think you’ve lost something.”
Rush clutched at his chest with his free hand and realised The Tears were gone. Without The Tears about his neck, Rush was no longer to be feared. He was mobbed by men hungry to avenge their fallen comrades.
“Wait!” cried Kidd. He began to pull the men away.
Rush lay battered on the deck. “Why don’t you have done with me?”
Kidd raised The Tears in the midday sun. “No. As much as I would like to see you dead, I’ve had a change of heart. You may continue to live for the honour of all the men and beasts I have been forced to kill on this quest. I would not want them to suffer your company in The Afterlife.”
Two of the Masala’s sailors hauled Rush to his feet. “Shall we throw him in the brig?” said one.
“No. Throw all the gunpowder into the sea and leave everything else as it is. I forgive you, Hamilton, but I believe you’re missing your lisp.” He punched Rush square in the mouth.
Rush spat blood and several front teeth. “You sson of a bitch!”
“Give Henry my regards.”
~ Chapter 37 ~
TWO PROMISES
A physician hurried to Kidd’s
side and pressed a wad of cloth over his stomach. Kidd gently pushed him aside. “Tend to the other wounded first. There’s been enough killing done here today. Lay down your arms. Your first duty as our prisoners is to recover your shipmates who’ve been lost overboard.”
The Englishmen cast ropes into the water. There was no sign of Flint amongst those rescued, but Kidd felt certain his former partner was not lost at sea.
Meanwhile, the combined crews of the Mano Del Dios and the Masala disposed of the Excalibur’s munitions. Kidd pulled Ramiro aside. “Be sure to leave the English suitable provisions, and wood and nails. They’re no further threat to us.”
Bolstered by some Spanish survivors, the Masala left the Excalibur to fend for herself and set her course for Rome. Soon, the Excalibur was a distant speck.
Kidd stripped off his shirt as the physician returned. “The blade hasn’t cut your innards or you’d be oozing all sorts of foul fluids,” the man muttered as he examined and cleaned the puncture. “Tis a miracle! Few men survive such a wound.” He applied wads of cloth and strapped Kidd’s torso tight.
“A miracle indeed,” said Harissa as she uncorked a bottle of rum. “I’d say that deserves a drink!”
Fiel refused the bottle. He looked Kidd squarely in the eye. “Now that you have recovered The Tears, I ask you to hand them over.”
“I can’t do that. I have to take them to Rome.”
Fiel rested his hand on the hilt of his sabre. “So, you will place the world in jeopardy to save your own skin.”
“If I give you The Tears, it will be the Holy Roman Emperor that hangs them around his neck.”
Fiel drew his sabre. Kidd noted his skill with the blade as it whistled through the air. “You misunderstand,” Fiel said, with fire in his eyes. “The Holy Roman Emperor is my King, but I answer ultimately to the Kingdom of Heaven. I also belong to the order you know as the Warriors of God. That order was started by Saint Lawrence for one purpose, to protect the treasures of the Church. The Tears came to him for that reason and they must be kept from men who would abuse their power. I will hide The Tears and keep them safe.”
Kidd gently pushed Fiel’s sword aside. “No good has come to any man who kept The Tears for his own. I must return them to Rome and clear my name, but I swear that I will not let them fall into the wrong hands.”
Fiel stared at him. His fingers flexed along the hilt. He flourished the blade before returning it to his scabbard. “A lesser man would have put the crew of the Excalibur to death, but you spared the survivors, as well as the life of your greatest enemy. I believe you.” He accepted the bottle of rum and took a slug of the sweet liquor. “I know in my heart that you are a decent man, Iron William Kidd, and I make you two promises. I will accompany you to Rome, and if you break your word, I will kill you where you stand.”
~ Chapter 38 ~
RETURN TO ROME
The city of Rome, in the Papal States
Rome stretched out before Iron William Kidd, a sea of brown-orange buildings and evergreen trees. It was a wonder he’d made it, and with a day to spare. Yet, for all the trials he’d endured to bring The Tears to the Eternal City, he couldn’t help but wonder what would happen after they left his care. The stone weighed heavily around his neck. He could turn around and ride away, but The Tears were not his to keep.
The horse hesitated, sensing his mood, so Kidd nudged her gently in the flank to spur her along the ancient road. She was a good horse, but she wasn’t Esperanza. He hoped the mare that had borne him from the desert had found a good home. He’d been forced to part company with too many friends on this quest; Bay, Kemal, Esperanza, even Tom Flint.
Over his shoulder, Kidd glimpsed Harissa and Fiel riding side by side not far behind, deep in conversation. The two sea captains had become friends on the final leg of the voyage. Harissa was enjoying the chance to lecture the Spaniard on the subtleties of naval combat, and Fiel found her company refreshing.
Kidd rode on, alone with his thoughts. The streets of Rome looked different, despite the usual sights and din as people went about their lives. He’d begun to see familiar places with different eyes, aware of occurrences he’d chosen to ignore in the past. He heard a child crying because she was lost. Around a corner, a small huddle of people lurked in the shadows, homeless and starving. Another man in rags, barely able to walk, clutched his empty stomach and begged for alms. The foul stench of human waste filled his nostrils as it was cast onto the street. This was the city where Lawrence had been persecuted for his beliefs. Kidd felt disgusted. No wonder Suleiman felt driven to strike Rome off the map. This was not a fitting home for The Tears.
Yet the streets were beautiful too, and the people who dwelled on them were blessed to be surrounded by the memorials of human passion, raised over hundreds of years. As he progressed towards the Vatican he gazed at the wonder of buildings dreamed of by artists and built by artisans. He heard a baby laugh as his mother tickled his belly. A group of men sang as they went about their work. He passed by a market and smelled vine-ripened tomatoes, soft cheese, and freshly baked bread. Perhaps The Tears would be safe here after all.
He lifted The Tears from his neck, wrapped the chain around his palm, and held them tight in his iron fist. The whispering had grown louder recently, although the words remained elusive. He wondered if The Tears had absorbed qualities of the men who had carried them, in the same way as they had absorbed the sand of Bethany and transformed into a glorious jewel.
He arrived at the Vatican walls and brought the horse to a stop before the gate. Suddenly the whispers intensified and formed words of such clarity they overwhelmed all other sounds.
Kidd had no chance to ponder the words as the great wooden gates were hauled open. The Swiss Guard snapped to attention in two columns, creating a pathway into the heart of the ancient fortress. Kidd dismounted and patted his horse affectionately on the face. The horse brayed and nuzzled him in the neck.
Harissa and Fiel also dismounted, but the Swiss Guard made it clear they were not welcome beyond the gate.
Kidd acknowledged his companions in turn. “This is where we must part ways.”
Fiel wore his agitation badly. “Allowing you alone beyond these walls tests my faith.”
Kidd cleared his throat. “The Tears come to every man who possesses them for a reason. Now I have fulfilled my obligation to the Church, I understand why they have come to me. I’m not bound by rules, or the principles of your order, or by allegiance to king or country. That makes me suitable to protect The Tears from the uses of corruption.”
Fiel looked pained, but he nodded solemnly. “Every time I considered taking your life and seizing The Tears, something stayed my hand. I understand what you must do, and I do not envy you the task.” He held out his hand. “I wish you luck.”
Kidd accepted the handshake.
“We’ll wait for you,” said Harissa.
Kidd shook his head. “There’s no need.” He saw the look of sadness in her eyes. She understood he didn’t expect to leave the Vatican walls alive. She embraced him. He thought he could feel the warmth of her body with his fingertips. “Goodbye, Harissa.”
“Goodbye, Iron William Kidd. I’m sorry we couldn’t have met in different circumstances. I should have liked to have known you better.”
“Me too,” said Kidd quietly. He waited as they mounted their horses, rode away and were gone from sight. Too many people had suffered on this quest, and it was fitting he should finish it alone. He strode through the gate, his feet falling hard on the stone, jarring his ankles. The wind whistled in his ears. Despite the strong sun, he felt cold.
Cardinal Cresci couldn’t hide his excitement as Kidd entered the Vatican’s official greeting chamber. He crept forward as if drawn to The Tears by a magnet. “William Kidd, what news do you have to report of your quest to find The Tears of Christ?”
Kidd held The Tears above his head. The magnificent blue stone caught the light and sparkled more richly than any diamond. Ther
e was an audible gasp throughout the chamber at the sight.
Cresci raised his arms. “The Lord be praised!”
Kidd stood tall. “I’ve come to deliver The Tears of Christ to Rome.”
Cresci’s desire to take The Tears was so great he abandoned all ceremony and stretched out his hand. “Let me hold it,” he said, his voice quivering.
Kidd closed his hand around the stone and drew it to his chest. “No.”
Cresci’s eye’s bulged. “I beg your pardon?”
“No,” said Kidd louder.
“Hand over The Tears,” grated Cresci. “They do not belong to you!”
“No, they do not,” said Kidd, his voice echoing through the hall, “but before I give them to you, I have a question I would like answered.”
Cresci squinted at him and nodded. “Very well,” he said, his hands twitching.
“I have found The Tears of Christ and brought them here. Is my debt erased?”
“I don’t understand,” said Cresci. He didn’t look Kidd in the eyes. His gaze was fixed on The Tears.
“Is my debt repaid?” demanded Kidd in a stronger voice.
“Yes,” whispered Cresci, “now give it to me!”
“Louder, so everyone can hear.”
Cresci spun about with his arms in the air like an actor. “The Tears of Christ are found,” he shouted so his voice carried through the hall, “and I absolve William Kidd of his debt to the Church.” He stepped forward and his expression changed, his lip twisting with anger. “Are you satisfied?”
Kidd stared Cresci in the eyes. “Not quite.” He gripped The Tears firmly in his hand. “Many lives were lost in the course of bringing The Tears here, but many thousands would have perished if I had failed. The Tears were in the keeping of Suleiman, Sultan of the Ottoman Empire, and he intended to use its power to destroy Rome. You may have absolved me of my debt, but I believe you are now in mine.”
“Ridiculous!” screeched Cresci. “Give them to me!”
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