Privateer

by Margaret Weis

  The jailer was perplexed. “Colonel Sartoine? He said nothing to me!”

  Thomas and Phillip exchanged glances.

  “There might be a reason he did not tell you, sir,” Thomas said gently.

  The jailer frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  “I am certain that you would never refuse to go on duty in a cellblock infected with yellow jack, sir,” said Phillip. “Others would not be so courageous.”

  The jailer gulped. “Which prisoner?”

  “A female condemned for piracy,” said Phillip. “We were told she comes from Freeport, where there has been a recent outbreak.”

  “So many dead,” Thomas remarked in sorrow. “They say the bodies are piling up in the streets.”

  The jailer looked nervous, but he was not to be cheated of his hanging.

  “She is condemned to die this very morning,” he said. “Not long to wait. Let us leave her to God.”

  Phillip shrugged. “That is your decision, sir. I would, however, recommend that those who escort her to the gallows keep as far from her as possible.”

  The jailer stirred uneasily; perhaps he was an escort. Still, he didn’t budge. Thomas could have throttled him.

  Phillip leaned close to his friend and spoke in a low, ominous tone that was meant to be confidential, but which carried remarkably well.

  “The jailer is sweating profusely, Brother Sebastian.”

  “So he is, Brother Gregory,” said Thomas, alarmed. He regarded the jailer with grave concern. “He is red in the face.”

  “Have you felt dizzy or nauseous, sir?” Phillip asked. “Were you in contact with this prisoner?”

  “Not me! I have scarcely set eyes on her!” The jailer shuddered. “You will find her in one of the cells for the condemned. Down that corridor. Number sixteen. Take this lantern. Magic won’t work down there.”

  Thomas picked up the lantern that was filled with oil, not magic, and accompanied Phillip down the darkened corridor.

  “If that bastard jailer wasn’t sweating before, he is now,” Thomas muttered.

  “He might send for the colonel,” said Phillip. “We need to hurry.”

  According to Louie’s map, cell number sixteen was at the very end of the cellblock, several hundred feet from the entrance. Thomas was grateful that the jailer had not accompanied them, for they were going to have to change their story. He could feel the man’s eyes staring after him as it was.

  The corridor was dark. The wooden doors on the cells they passed were closed. Thomas was grateful. He could not see inside, but he could hear, and the sounds of the misery coming from behind the locked doors were bad enough.

  They knew Kate’s cell by the soldier seated on a camp stool in front of the door, his rifle resting in his arms, his head on his chest.

  “He’s asleep on duty,” Thomas whispered.

  “He’ll be the one who is hanged if someone catches him,” Phillip said. “God be with you, sir,” he called loudly, kindly giving the soldier advance notice of their coming.

  The soldier sat bolt upright, fumbling at his rifle as he scrambled to his feet. He was young and gangly, probably no more than eighteen. He squinted at them in the bright lantern light.

  “Who is there?” he asked uneasily, undoubtedly fearing it was the jailer.

  “I am Brother Gregory and this is Brother Sebastian,” said Phillip. “We have come to sit with the condemned and pray for her soul.”

  Either the guard was new and had no idea that the priest was not supposed to arrive until dawn, or he didn’t want to question a priest, especially not one who had just caught him napping. He brought out his key ring, sorted through the keys, and inserted one into the lock.

  “The priest is here,” he said to the prisoner.

  “Tell him to go away!” a woman’s voice called.

  Thomas remembered her voice, rich and mellow, laced with spice and fire, and now, ragged with fear.

  “I am not a believer,” Kate added. “I don’t want a priest.”

  Thomas was stirred to his soul. Kate was trying very hard to sound brave, but her voice betrayed her. She was frightened and alone, condemned to die, without hope. Thomas longed to embrace her and comfort her, hold her in his arms. He restrained himself, however, and followed their plan.

  Phillip opened the cell door and raised the lantern to shine the light on Kate. She was sitting on the bed, her back against the wall, facing them in defiance.

  Thomas was thankful his friend was carrying the lantern, for he might have dropped it. Kate was so altered he would not have recognized her.

  They had shaved her head, her blond curls gone. A surgeon had sewed up an ugly gash on her scalp. Her face was bruised and bloody, her lips swollen. Her eyes, red from crying, seemed huge in her pallid face. Her tears had left tracks in the blood. She was dressed in a long white shift, her legs and ankles bare.

  Mindful of the corporal standing outside the cell door, Phillip was saying something to Kate about praying for her soul. Thomas could scarcely hear his friend for the rushing of blood in his ears.

  “I don’t want your prayers!” Kate retorted. “Just leave me alone to die in peace.”

  “Go in to the poor girl, Brother Sebastian,” said Phillip. “I will keep the corporal company, if that is permitted. Take the lantern, Brother.”

  He handed Thomas the lantern and stood aside to allow him to enter, then shut the cell door. Thomas had difficulty with the lantern, for his hands were shaking, and the lantern light flared about the cell, half blinding Kate, who shielded her eyes and averted her face.

  “I said go away!” she mumbled.

  Thomas set the lantern on the floor. He drew near to her and pulled back the cowl so that she could see his face.

  “But I have come to save you, my child,” he said softly.

  FOUR

  Thomas worried that she might not recognize him, and at first, she didn’t. She stared at him, frowning, probably wondering why a priest should speak with such a thrill in his voice. Her eyes widened, and she gave a little gasp. Thomas gently rested his hand over her bruised mouth.

  “Not a word!” he whispered. “Pip is dealing with the guard.”

  They heard the sounds of a brief scuffle outside the cell door and then it swung open and Phillip came in, dragging the unconscious corporal into the cell by the shoulders. He stretched the corporal out on the floor, then shut the cell door.

  Kate stared, not moving. “Am I dreaming?” She spoke in a low voice, as if she didn’t want to wake herself.

  “You are not dreaming, Kate,” Phillip replied with a deliberately cheerful grin. “We are quite real, I assure you. Tom, I need your help,” he added sternly, for Thomas could do nothing except gaze at Kate. “We have to move fast and we need to relieve this poor devil of his uniform.”

  “Yes, of course,” said Thomas, seeming to come out of a daze.

  He set the scrip on the floor, then he and Phillip pulled off the soldier’s boots and stripped off his jacket and breeches. Kate did not move. She sat on the bed, watching them work, perhaps still trying to convince herself there was hope. Suddenly she lunged off the bed and flung one arm around Thomas and her other arm around Phillip.

  “Thank you!” Kate whispered fiercely, hugging them. “Thank you both so much!”

  Thomas put his arm around her and she clung to him for a moment, half sobbing and half laughing. Thomas tightened his grip on her.

  “You are safe now, Kate,” he said, his heart wrung with love and pity.

  “No! She isn’t,” said Phillip sharply. “Not yet. She is going to be hanged and they’ll hang us with her unless we get out of here! The jailer could come at any moment, so get to work! Remove his other boot. Kate, take off that wretched thing you are wearing and put on the guard’s clothes while we get him into bed.”

  “What’s the plan?” Kate asked. Seeing Phillip’s grim look, she added hurriedly, “Hand me his stockings.”

  She sat down on the bed,
hiked up her shift, and pulled the stockings on over her bare legs. Phillip tossed her the breeches and Thomas handed her the shirt. Kate retreated into a corner of the cell.

  “Turn around,” she ordered, taking off her shift.

  “Help me get him onto the bed,” said Phillip to Thomas.

  Thomas picked up the man’s shoulders, Phillip lifted his feet, and they hauled him onto the bed. Phillip laid him out as one would a corpse, folding his hands over his chest. Thomas covered him from head to toe with the bedsheet.

  By that time, Kate had put on the shirt and the breeches and was buttoning the guard’s jacket. She was taller than average and the guard’s clothing almost fit her. Then she put on his boots and shook her head.

  “These are way too big. I won’t be able to walk in them. And what about my head? He has hair,” she said bitterly.

  Phillip picked up the blanket. “Drape this over your head. Tom and I will carry you—”

  “Brothers!” the jailer bellowed. “What is going on?”

  “Sounds as though he’s standing at the end of the corridor,” Thomas said. “At least he’s keeping his distance.”

  Kate enveloped herself in the blanket. Thomas and Phillip put their arms around her.

  “Hang your head,” Phillip admonished her. “You are sick with the yellow jack, so it would be appropriate if you moaned now and then. Brother Sebastian, the scrip and your cowl.”

  Thomas had forgotten about the damn cowl, which he had lowered to talk to Kate. He hurriedly pulled it up over his head and draped the leather pouch with the money over his shoulder.

  “Everyone ready?” Phillip asked. He drew in a breath. “God be with us!”

  Thomas grasped hold of Kate around her waist. Phillip opened the cell door with one hand, supporting Kate with the other. She went limp, her head down, her feet in the overlarge boots dragging along the floor.

  Thomas and Phillip emerged from the cell carrying Kate between them. The jailer had ventured as far as the end of the cellblock. He stared at them in alarm. All he could see in the dim light was a man in uniform, his head covered with a blanket.

  “Who do you have there, Brothers?” the jailer asked. “What is the matter with him? What about the prisoner? How is she?”

  “She is dead, God rest her,” said Phillip. “She died of the yellow jack. Her guard now has the dread disease.”

  “For God’s sake, keep your voice down, Brother,” said the jailer, going pale. “You will start a riot!”

  “You need to do something to contain the fever, sir,” Phillip added, just in case someone hadn’t heard him the first time. “Yellow jack spreads quickly, you know.”

  The words were apparently as contagious as the disease, for they began spreading rapidly from cell to cell.

  “Yellow jack! Did you hear that, lads!” one of the prisoners shouted.

  “We’re all going to die in this stinking hellhole!” cried another.

  “Let us out!” The prisoners yelled and began banging on the cell doors.

  Kate moaned from beneath the blanket. Thomas and Phillip kept walking, hauling her between them.

  “Perhaps I should go view the body…” said the jailer.

  Thomas cast Phillip an alarmed glance. “I do not think that would be wise, do you, Brother?”

  “I applaud your courage, sir,” Phillip told the jailer in admiring tones. “Most people would not go anywhere near that cell. I do caution you not to touch the corpse. Some of the brethren will be back to remove it for burial.”

  The jailer cast an uncertain glance down the corridor.

  The prisoners were in an uproar, demanding to be set free. Thomas and Phillip, dragging Kate along with them, were only steps from the exit. The jailer took out his handkerchief to mop his sweating face.

  “Are you feeling unwell, sir?” Thomas asked solicitously.

  The jailer shuddered and thrust the handkerchief into his pocket.

  “You really should inform the colonel that there is yellow jack in the cellblock,” Phillip advised him, just as another guard came running from a different part of the jail.

  “Yellow jack!” the guard cried. He turned on his heel and bolted.

  The jailer watched him leave. “You are right, Brother. I should go tell the colonel.”

  He ran out the door. The prisoners heard him go and howled in outrage. They hurled themselves against the cell doors, trying to break them down.

  Thomas and Phillip hurried out of the cellblock, into the corridor, and headed for the stairs that led to the ground floor and freedom.

  “If he does tell the colonel, he will likely know that yellow jack could not possibly spread this fast,” Thomas said.

  “True,” said Phillip. “Keep moving!”

  They hurried down the stairs. Kate’s moans were starting to sound a little too real. Thomas and Phillip had hold of her with bruising force and her arms must be aching from the strain.

  “Just a little farther,” Thomas told her, doing what he could to brace her, ease the strain. “Do you need to stop to rest?”

  “No!” Kate gasped, her voice muffled by the blanket. “Keep going!”

  They reached the bottom of the stairs and Phillip slowed.

  “Do we go left here?”

  “I think so,” Thomas said, grateful for the chance to catch his breath. “I remember that crack in the wall.”

  At least he hoped he remembered that crack in the wall. He began to doubt himself. Perhaps he was thinking of another crack in a different wall. He did not remember the corridor being this long and he was positive he had not seen that pile of refuse in the corner. Just when he had convinced himself that they were hopelessly lost, he smelled fresh air and knew with relief they had come the right way.

  “Almost there,” he told Kate. “Two more guards and we’re home free.”

  The guards had been watching for them. Seeing two monks dragging a soldier wrapped in a blanket coming toward them at a fast pace, the guards flung the gates open wide and then retreated into the gatehouse. Phillip and Thomas hurried by, dragging Kate.

  “Is it yellow jack, Brother?” one of the guards called.

  “Yes, one poor soul is dead already and I fear this man is not long for the world,” Phillip replied. “Lock the gate after us. Do not permit anyone to go inside and, for God’s sake, do not let anyone out! We do not want contagion to spread through the city!”

  The guards watched them pass as they exited the fortress and began crossing the walled walkway.

  “Keep moving at a normal pace,” Phillip counseled. “They can still see us.”

  Thomas heard the gate clank shut behind them and he started to relax. Then he heard the sound of booted feet pounding along the walkway. He looked over his shoulder.

  “What is it?” Phillip asked, alarmed.

  “The guards,” said Thomas. “They are after us.”

  “Let go of me!” Kate gasped, struggling in his grasp. “I can fight! I said let go!”

  She lashed out at them, kicking them. “I won’t hang!”

  “We won’t let them take you, Kate,” Thomas promised.

  The booted feet were coming closer. The guards were closing fast. Thomas and Phillip stopped, bracing for a fight.

  The guards ran past them with frightened glances. The last Thomas saw of them, they were pounding down the street, running for their lives.

  Thomas and Phillip looked at each other and sighed in relief.

  “What’s happening?” Kate cried. “I can’t see!”

  “The guards are gone,” said Thomas. “No, Kate, don’t stop. We have to keep going. We’re still within sight of the fort.”

  “There’s an alley off to the right,” Phillip said. “We can rest in there.”

  When they reached the alley, Thomas listened behind them for sounds that their ruse had been discovered and that the colonel was turning out the guard. He heard only muffled howls coming from the cellblock.

  “We can rest a li
ttle while,” said Phillip.

  “Thank goodness!” Kate breathed.

  She threw off the blanket and stood upright, flexing and rubbing her sore arms. Phillip released his hold on her, but Thomas was reluctant to let go.

  “Are you sure you’re all right, Kate?” he asked.

  She pulled free of his grasp.

  “I am not one of your delicate princesses, Your Highness. So don’t treat me like one. You lied to me!” she added with an accusing glance. “You should have told me you were a prince.”

  Thomas regarded her, perplexed. “Forgive me for not properly introducing myself, but the first time we met you were holding me at gunpoint, the damn boat was sinking underneath us, and Guundaran marines were shooting at us!”

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Kate. “I don’t care what you are.” Dragging off the boots that were too large, she tossed them aside.

  Thomas couldn’t imagine why she was so upset. He looked to Phillip for an explanation, but his friend only shook his head.

  “We should be going,” he advised. “That wretched corpse will wake up anytime now and start yelling. They will discover you’ve escaped and all hell will break loose.”

  “You are right,” said Kate.

  She looked from Thomas to Phillip and back to Thomas. Her face was a pale glimmer in the moonlight, her eyes large and shimmering.

  “You both risked your lives and more to save me. I cannot thank you enough. I will always be grateful.”

  She kissed Phillip on the cheek. “Good-bye, Pip. Take care of yourself.”

  She gently kissed Thomas. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

  She gave them both a tremulous smile, then she turned and ran, barefoot, down the alley.

  FIVE

  Thomas and Phillip gazed after Kate in blank astonishment. Her sudden mad dash had taken them completely by surprise.

  “We have to stop her!” Phillip said, coming to his senses.

  “She’s not thinking. Kate!” Thomas called and ran after her.

  She had a head start, but she was running barefoot and he caught up to her. He seized hold of her wrist.

  “Kate! You need to stay with us!”