Pirates of King's Landing

Chapter 2

The cell door clanked sharply, pulling Brianna out of her sleep. Before the interruption, she’d been in the midst of the most wonderful dream. She had been back on the quarterdeck of the Sea Serpent as it approached Jamaica. The water was a pure light cerulean, and as the ship coasted through it, she could see down to the ocean floor, spotting colorful fish darting about. Small sharks and rays drifted lazily over the sandy bottom. Ahead of her, Emerald Island was a glittering jewel.

Sea Serpent“On your feet, pirate,” came a cool voice that she recognized with dread.

Brianna blinked and slowly sat up on her straw cot. She yawned, stretched her arms back over her head, and then finally stood. She couldn’t let this man know that she was frightened of him. The captain glared at her. So torture day had arrived, it seemed. She’d had little sleep in the last three days, and now she was to face whatever would come next. She could only hope to hide her gender from them. As much as she didn’t want her neck stretched from the gallows, it would be a better fate than being discovered as a woman beforehand.

She took note of the two soldiers on either side of the captain.

“I don’t suppose I could have a bit of food and water to break my fast?” The last time she’d eaten had been moldy bread the night before, and she’d rejected the water offered from a bucket coated with a layer of scum. It hadn’t been safe to drink, and now her lips were parched.

“Thirsty, are you?” The captain’s voice turned almost silky.

Brianna was no fool. That was not a tone she could trust.

“No, no, thank you. I’m fine,” Brianna replied nonchalantly.

“Take him to the yard,” the captain snapped, then began to walk down the corridor ahead of them. So the hanging was to begin already? A flutter of nerves stormed the battlements of her belly, but she went willingly with the soldiers. If there was a chance to escape, she would take it, but she would not waste her energy now.

“Chin up, lad,” a fellow prisoner called as they passed the row of other inmates.

“That’s right! Show them how a real man faces the end,” another shouted. She almost laughed at that.

“Let the Jolly Roger fly!” a third man said before he spit upon the soldiers’ faces as they passed. One of the soldiers slammed his gun against the bars of the man’s cell. The prisoner backed up worriedly.

“Don’t worry about me, lads!” she replied to the prisoners. “I’ll make Captain Morgan proud.” That was code.

Captain Morgan had died a little over fifty years before, but his legend had carried on from ship to ship. Port Royal had been his land before a mighty earthquake had swallowed two-thirds of the city forever beneath the sea. Now the British were in charge. A call to make Morgan proud was a final act of defiance to anyone putting a pirate to death. None cared that Morgan had once enforced antipiracy laws when he’d served as governor of Jamaica. He would always be a hero to their kind.

She had sat on her father’s knee as a tiny child growing up with the legends of the great pirates and privateers. It was years later that she’d realized her father was one of them. Thomas Holland, or Thomas the Buccaneer, was now the Shadow King of the West Indies. Untouchable by any navy, he’d cheated death time and again. She would do him proud now and face whatever came, but she would not betray him.

She blinked against the bright light outside in the fort’s parade ground. The captain stood waiting by a trough of water that was used to quench the thirst of military beasts in the fort. One of the soldiers shoved her forward when she halted, and she fell to her knees at the captain’s feet.

“I believe you said you were thirsty,” the officer sneered, and that was Brianna’s only warning.

He gripped her by the back of her neck and dragged her a few feet toward the trough, then shoved her face into the water. Brianna had only a second to inhale before she was submerged. Panic and natural instinct made her flail at the sides of the trough, but her hands were soon jerked behind her and bound together.

A moment later her head was released, and she gasped for air as she broke the surface.

“Are we having fun yet?” The captain’s laugh was as sharp as a whip.

A split second was all she had before the captain shoved her once more into the cold water.

Flashes of white and black danced behind her closed eyelids. She thrashed against her restraints and the hard hand still in a viselike grip on her neck, but she had no choice but to hold on. This was no different than holding her breath during hurricanes when winds whipped the seas to a fury. In such storms, she had but an instant to breathe before the waves knocked the breath out of her lungs and tried to drown her.

She was hauled up again and she gasped, her lips feeling the sweet, warm Caribbean air. She blinked away the water and stared up into the sneering face of the army captain. Her body trembled with both fear and rage.

“Now . . . Joseph McBride. We searched everywhere. Where would he hide?”

Brianna tried to collect her scattered thoughts. Nearly drowning had a way of tossing her mind about like a storm-battered ship.

“I don’t know what—”

Her head was shoved back under the water. Again, she fought off the waves of panic and tried to stop fighting. She let herself go limp and focused on the last remnants of her dream, the one with the clear blue water and Emerald Island. She finally relaxed, only her lungs felt tight. She saw now what some sailors meant when they imagined death as a quiet dark sea and a flash of pain as they inhaled water. She didn’t want that death. She held her breath, fighting off the need to open her mouth and breathe.

She was jerked out of the water and tossed onto the ground on her side. She was so stunned by the sudden reprieve that she didn’t immediately breathe.

“You killed him,” a new voice growled. “I told you this was not the way, Captain Waverly.”

“Forgive me, Admiral, but he won’t talk,” the captain replied coolly. “Interrogation methods like these are necessary.”

Brianna regained her wits and slowly drew in a breath, relieving her screaming lungs. Neither man, nor the two soldiers, seemed to notice. She kept her eyes closed and her body limp.

“He was our only lead on Buck, and you drowned him. We are in His Majesty’s service. We do not drown boys like rats. We maintain our honor.”

“Forgive me, Admiral Harcourt,” Captain Waverly said far more sarcastically this time. “But pirates do not deserve honorable treatment. They s*******r our men and r**e women and e*****e children. How could you treat this man with honor when he himself has none?”

honorableHis words made Brianna bristle inside, because it had the sting of truth to it. Most pirates were lawless creatures who acted on baser instincts, but not her father and not her father’s crew. They only took lives when they had to, kept no prisoners or slaves, and women were respected. She’d chosen men for her own crew that she could trust and felt would be as honorable as pirates could be.

Other pirates, of course, were not like this. Brianna was anything but naïve. But for this man to throw all pirates in the category of such villainous dogs . . .

“Honey draws far more bees than vinegar,” Admiral Harcourt said. “If you had let me try with the boy . . . But now it’s too late.”

“Take his body and hang it in the iron cage by the docks,” Waverly ordered. “The birds can pick off his flesh. He’ll be a lesson to other pirates who dare to come into Port Royal.”

Brianna almost tensed at the chance for freedom and had to keep herself relaxed. The soldiers cut her wrists free so they could hoist her up by her arms and legs to carry her away.

She kept her eyes closed as they walked, but just before they reached the gates, Captain Waverly called out, “Hold on! I want to be sure he’s dead.” The sound of a blade being drawn out of a scabbard was Brianna’s undoing. She was not going to let this man stab her just to satisfy his curiosity.

She jerked fast, and the two soldiers holding her shouted in alarm and dropped her. She landed with a thud and grunted as the air whooshed out of her lungs.

“Ha!” Waverly snarled as he held the sword tip at her throat, pressing down just enough to draw a drop of blood from her skin.

“Captain!” the admiral shouted with such sharp natural command that the captain flinched. It was so small a reaction that Brianna would have missed it if she hadn’t been looking directly into Waverly’s eyes.

“It is my turn to question the boy,” Harcourt said. “Please take him into my office.”

myWaverly stepped back as the soldiers hoisted Brianna back onto her feet. She gave Waverly a smug grin as she was escorted past him to the spacious office of the admiral. The office was full of expensive-looking furniture, a fine oak desk and silk brocade chairs. There was a large globe on a stand, and the sunlight from the windows illuminated the colorful continents and oceans upon its surface. It looked like a room one would find in a tea planter’s estate, not in a naval fortress.

“Please, sit.” The admiral nodded at a leather chair with gilded arms.

She glanced down at her wet body uncertainly. “I’d better not, sir,” she replied respectfully. This man would not be amused or riled by her clever or sarcastic replies. But respect—that he would appreciate. She gestured to her dripping shirtsleeves and to her back where the water from the trough had sluiced down her body.

“It’s only a bit of water, lad.” His tone was calm, almost gentle. Brianna sank into the chair gratefully. It was infinitely softer than the cot in her cell.

“Now, what’s your name, lad?” the admiral asked.

It was smart to play along..

“Bryan Holland, sir,” she said. It was foolish to allow hope in, but she wondered if this man might not hang her if she could give him enough false information to get him to trust her.

“I assume you’re hungry and thirsty?” he asked as he waved at someone behind her.

She nearly leapt to her feet as a man she hadn’t seen walked around from behind her to place a tray of sliced meat, bread and a few bits of fruit on the desk between her and the admiral. He also set down a pitcher of water and a glass. The admiral had guessed she was hungry and thirsty. It didn’t escape her notice that he was a smart man, perhaps even smarter than Waverly, because with food like this, she could see how many a prisoner would loosen their lips and spill secrets they shouldn’t.

“Please, eat what you wish and drink your fill. Captain Waverly may control prisoners in the cells of the garrison, but here I can restore some semblance of fair treatment. This is a naval fortress after all and I have the final say in your fate.”

Brianna’s stomach grumbled loudly, and she knew lying about her hunger would be foolish. She reached for a slice of cold ham, and she barely stopped herself from moaning at the sweet taste. She consumed several more pieces of meat before washing it all down with a glass of water.

“Take your time,” the admiral said. “There’s no rush.”

When she’d eaten and drunk to the point that her belly was bursting, the admiral leaned back in his chair.

“Mr. Holland, unfortunately we find ourselves in a difficult position. You assaulted Captain Waverly in the market—”

“With a deadly tomato,” she cut in. “Didn’t know they hanged people for that.”

deadlyThe admiral’s lips twitched. “Yes. Harmless as it was, it was still a sign of aggression upon an officer of His Majesty’s forces. When we searched the marketplace for you, several witnesses came forward to say you were seen talking with Joseph McBride. Do you deny that?”

Brianna had to think quickly.

“I met him that morning. He walked into the market and was asking my advice on a few places to purchase supplies. He was a nice bloke, sir, but I’d never seen him before that morning.”

“And you? It is clear you are not a native of Port Royal,” the admiral guessed shrewdly. “You speak well, and you care for yourself properly. Where do you hail from?”

“I come from Cornwall. My father has a merchant ship, the Dutch Lady. She dropped me off that morning.” Brianna remembered spotting the ship leaving the harbor as she and Joe had rowed their jolly boat into the bay.

Dutch Lady“That ship is not due to return here for several months.”

“Yes, sir. My father wanted me to stay behind to try to build some connections here. He was hoping to hire men to protect us from pirates. Had I known, sir, that the man I was helping was a pirate, I would’ve turned him in.”

“Then why didn’t you tell Captain Waverly this when he first asked you?”

Brianna feigned a wince. “I’ll be honest with you, sir, since you’ve been treating me so fairly. When I first arrived here, a couple of your soldiers were rough with me inside a tavern down by the docks. Drinking was involved, tempers flared, and I was more than a little sore about the whole affair.” She had seen some soldiers scuffle with a patron of a tavern when she’d arrived, but even if she hadn’t, such events were commonplace.

“So when I saw the captain marching down the street all pretty as can be, I admit I let my temper get the better of me. I know it was wrong, and I’m sorry for it, but once the captain had his sights set on me, he didn’t want to hear nothing other than what he wanted to hear, if you take my meaning, sir. He was already certain of my guilt, and anything I told him would only have been twisted against me as proof of it. There’s no convincing that man that the sky is blue if he has his heart set otherwise.”

“I see.” The admiral’s expression looked troubled. “Well . . . I would like to believe you, Mr. Holland, but it’s not that easy. You struck an officer, albeit with a tomato, but it is still an assault. I will endeavor to determine if what you told me is true, but if I can find no evidence, then we must have another difficult discussion as to your fate.”

Brianna swallowed hard. Her story was sound, but there would be no one to corroborate it.

“I understand, sir.”

“Now . . .”

The door to the admiral’s office burst open, and a stunningly beautiful woman swirled in on a rainbow of color.

“Papa, what are you—?” The woman stopped right beside Brianna. Her auburn hair was piled atop her head, and the elaborate green-and-pale-pink striped gown she wore whispered on the carpet as she turned to face Brianna. She looked as pretty as a confection in a baker’s shop. Her eyes held no fear, though, only curiosity.

“Roberta darling, how did you get in here? I had men stationed at the door. This man has possible pirate connections. You shouldn’t be here.”

Roberta’s eyes swept over Brianna with pity. “Oh?”

“Yes, please go back to Dominic, my dear. You need to be more careful. You can’t run about the fort without protection.”

“Very well.” She let out a long-suffering sigh as she bent to kiss the admiral’s cheek, and then she faced Brianna as she passed her.

“Good luck,” she murmured so softly only Brianna could hear. For a split second she saw something in the young woman’s eyes that was, well . . . she wasn’t quite sure.

Good luck? What the devil did the woman mean by that?

Good luck?“Well, think of what we’ve spoken of, Mr. Holland, and I will do what I can to verify your story.” The admiral called out for a pair of soldiers to escort Brianna back to her cell, where she was tossed unceremoniously to the floor. No doubt these men listened more to their captain than the admiral since they wore red uniforms and not the naval blue. The door slammed shut and the lock twisted into place.

theseBrianna fell to her knees, exhausted from the water torture by Captain Waverly and her full stomach of food. It was going to be a long day, and she needed to think. There had to be a way to escape. There were holes in every system—she simply had to find the holes in this one. But first, she ought to rest. Then she would plan.

Admiral Harcourt stared at the door to his office, a wave of guilt sweeping over him. The Holland boy was young, so very young, a mere lad, yet he was facing a death sentence because he’d been seen in the company of Joseph McBride. If the lad’s story about the Dutch Lady was true, he might save his neck from the noose, but if not . . .

very Dutch LadyThe door to his office opened again, and a soldier stuck his head in.

“Er . . . there’s a prisoner who says he has information on the Holland boy.”

“What? What sort of information?”

“He says he will only speak to you,” the soldier replied.

“Is that so?” Admiral Harcourt sighed. “Very well. Bring the man to me. What’s his name?”

“Joshua Gibbons, sir.” The soldier bowed and left to retrieve the prisoner. Harcourt soon found himself gazing at a wizened old man with cunning eyes and a few missing teeth. By the looks of his weathered skin and ragged clothes, he’d seen a rough life on the sea for many years.

“Mr. Gibbons?”

Gibbons smiled. “Aye, that’d be me.”

“You may wait outside,” Harcourt said to the soldier. Once they were alone, Harcourt spoke to the man again. “You said you have information about Bryan Holland?”

“That I do, that I do. But I willna be telling ye for free.”

“I see.” Harcourt tapped his fingers impatiently on his desk. “And what do you want for this information?”

“To go free and not hang.”

“Of course,” Harcourt murmured softly. “Because your information is that valuable?”

thatThe pirate flashed him a toothy grin. “Exactly.”

“Very well. If and only if your information proves credible, you will be freed.” Harcourt wrote up an order and let the man read it.

onlyThe pirate stared at it. “I can’t read, but I trust ye, Admiral.”

“Very well. Now tell me what you know.”

The pirate glanced about as if afraid to be overheard.

“That man Holland . . . he is Buck’s right-hand man, even more than old Joe McBride is. Not a member of his crew mind you, but quite a favorite of Buck’s, he is.”

That was certainly not what Harcourt expected to hear.

The man grinned at his reaction. “Rumor is, he and Buck are close.”

“But . . . Buck is forty-five and the lad can’t even be twenty. We’ve never even heard of Holland until today. He’s not a member of the crew of Buck’s ship, the Sea Hawk.”

Sea HawkThe pirate tapped the tip of his nose with one finger and winked. “Aye, and wouldn’t it be a smart captain like Buck who would hide and protect, oh . . . say, a child?”

“You mean to tell me that Holland is Buck’s son?” Harcourt was at a loss. Surely they hadn’t caught so valuable a prisoner on accident?

“Whether he is or not, ’tis only a rumor, but it’s no rumor at all that Holland is Buck’s man through and through. I saw it myself last year in Cádiz. Thick as thieves they were.” The pirate paused. “Will ye set me free now?”

“Once we prove the truth of your statements,” Harcourt said before he had the man escorted back to his cell.

If Buck had a son, he’d clearly guarded his existence well. And if Holland was that son, he would not willingly betray his father, which meant they would need to gain the lad’s trust. No man in uniform would achieve that.

Harcourt hastily wrote a note to Lieutenant Nicholas Flynn, a man he trusted with his life. Flynn was a man of honor and wouldn’t like the task, but he would do it if Harcourt asked him to. He sealed the letter with his family’s signet ring and passed it to one of his personal naval officers who he trusted.

“Deliver this to Lieutenant Nicholas Flynn. He is staying at King’s Landing.”

“Yes, sir.”

The officer left, and Harcourt began to plan his next move. Flynn was the best friend of Harcourt’s son-in-law, Dominic, who was a former pirate but also the future Earl of Camden. Dominic and Nicholas were fast friends. If anyone could gain the trust of a pirate, it was Flynn. He knew pirates.

In no time at all, Flynn would have Holland’s confidence, and Buck’s days as the Shadow King of the West Indies would be over.