Raised By Wolves 1 - Brethren (60 page)

“Non, not at all. But who will we be in ten years? We could be dead.

Your father could disinherit you. All manner of things could occur. You may experience a change of heart for very excellent reasons.”

I was forced to admit to that possibility. I nodded with heaviness in my spirit.

“I would do the same for you if it were an option,” he said quietly.

I smiled. I wished to embrace him but I was unsure as to where we stood on such things. “May I hold you?”

He considered this, but did not readily agree. I forced myself not to make much of it.

“I understand. It is not necessary,” I said softly, and began to crawl from under the table. He pounced upon me, bowling me over so that we both struck the far table leg.

By his design, he ended up astride my waist, grinning down at me with his hands on either side of my head. I had not fought him at all.

“It is,” he said.

Never one to shy away from a fight, my manhood found this all terribly interesting and began to think about waking.

I slid my hands tentatively up his arms. “May I?”

He frowned with consternation. “Are you truly so terrified of me?”

“Oui,” I said, perhaps too quickly. This seemed to trouble him even more. “I am not afraid of you so much as I am afraid of… causing…”

He cut me off with a nod, and I was thankful, as I did not know how best to phrase it. I did not want this to end. I did not want him to withdraw. And I did not want to receive another knife prick in my side.

“I have decided that it would be best if I were more aggressive,” he said seriously.

“All right, then,” I said with equal sobriety, even though I was deeply amused. “Do with me as you will.” I could not help a teasing grin on the last.He sighed and smiled. “I realize that is rather like a blind man leading a horse.”

I laughed, and he joined me in it, until he sank to my chest and let me embrace him. His hands found the straw stubble of my scalp, and he explored the texture with gentle fingers. I felt very peaceful, and we dozed until we heard footsteps.

I roused myself enough to turn my head and spy Theodore at the base of the stairs, regarding us and the room with confused and bleary eyes.

His voice was hoarse. “I have come to the conclusion that there are things I do not need to know, as the questioning of them would tire an already-weary mind.”

“A little too much to drink last night, Theodore?” I teased.

He groaned. “You buccaneers may be familiar with hard drinking, but I am not.”

“Nay, I feel we, or rather they, are not either, unless in port. There was no alcohol on the North Wind and verily we went weeks without, with the exception of the time we were able to purchase a keg from another vessel. As you can well imagine, that did not stay amongst us long. As for myself, this last five months, since before I left England even, I have consumed less alcohol than during any similar period in the last ten years. I have spent most days appallingly sober.”

“All of Port Royal’s residents think we buccaneers do nothing but drink and fuck because that is all they see,” Gaston said, from where he still rested upon my chest.

“I did not mean all the time, because I have dealt with enough sober buccaneers to know better,” Theodore said, and roused himself to go and sit in one of the chairs in the middle of the room. “But when you do drink, you drink to excess.”

“True,” Gaston said.

“Why is my table in the corner?” Theodore asked.

“I thought you were not going to ask that,” I remarked.

He sighed. “I am compelled.”

Gaston slowly raised himself off me and to his knees. “I do not wish to be stepped upon while sleeping.”

Theodore looked around the empty room in a slow but somewhat comical manner. “Did you think that imminent?”

“One never can tell with drunken buccaneers about,” my matelot said with a smile.

“Ah, I see your point,” Theodore said. “Speaking of drunken buccaneers being about, after we break the fast, we should go and have a look at the house the Jews are letting.”

“Ah,” I said. “Aye, I have heard mention that there are Jews in Port Royal.” I tried to remember who had told me. Belfry, perhaps.

“Aye, they came here from Brazil, and then there was another group from London, and another from somewhere else, I forget where. There are at most a mere fifty of them, but they seem content to stay. One of them died recently, and he possessed a large house on the next street over. From my understanding of it, his family is wisely loathe to sell it before all the land on the cay is granted. They wish to make some money on it while it is empty, though. I feel you could let it for a time, until you decide where you wish to live, or if you wish to stay here at all.

They do not have a true house built on the plantation yet.”

“I could not imagine residing there, even if they did,” I said. “A lot and house in town would have its uses, but of course if we are soon able to purchase a ship, I suppose it will not matter, as we will have a place to sleep there.”

“You’re going to buy a ship?” Theodore asked.

“Not alone, as I lack the money to do so, but the enterprise has presented itself; a likely candidate has of yet not.” I pulled myself upright and assisted Gaston in returning the table to its rightful position, as Samuel was standing in the doorway with a kettle and looking rather vexed. “What became of Ella?” I asked.

“I moved her on to another who felt he had more use for her than I,”

Theodore said with a tired sigh. “I do not regret it.” He regarded Gaston and me with renewed speculation, as we sat in chairs at the table and helped ourselves to the hot chocolate. “Marsdale, may I ask a question of a personal nature as your barrister and agent?”

“It is simply Will now, amongst the Brethren. And you may ask anything.”

“Will, then. Are you two matelots?”

“Oh!” I chuckled. I remembered that we had not been, or at least not named it such, when last we saw Theodore. “Aye.”

“And so if something were to befall you?”

“He is my heir, aye.”

Gaston appeared thoughtful as he rubbed his temple and sipped chocolate. I raised a questioning brow. He shook his head and sighed.

“I realize I must make similar arrangements, though the majority of my assets are on Île de la Tortue. Still, I have some money here.”

Theodore seemed to be in deep reverie as he studied his cup. As I still harbored fear of condemnation from amongst those not of the Brethren regarding such matters, I began to feel he had concerns regarding our relationship. Then he surprised me; and I learned once again that I should not judge another based on my own anticipations.

“I need a wife,” Theodore said sadly. “Not so much for copulation, though assuredly that would be of interest, but for solace and companionship; and God knows I need someone to keep the house and myself.”

“Can you not send for one?” I asked. “Surely you know families in England who could suggest a suitable woman.”

He shook his head. “Aye, I do. But I must confess a certain romantic inclination in such regards, and I have little interest in wedding a woman I have not laid eyes upon or conversed with.”

“Theodore, I find that perfectly understandable,” I assured him; and then I smiled as I thought of the last matchmaking venture I had witnessed. He eyed me as if I might have found humor in him. “Nay, um...” I stood and peered over him into the front room, where I could see Davey and Julio still deeply in the thralls of slumber. “Let me tell you how Davey got his matelot.” I indicated the couple, and Theodore nodded with interest. Gaston was smiling now, and we quickly related the tale. Theodore was greatly amused. “If you wish, we could charge Pete with the task.”

“Nay, thank you, nay,” Theodore said quickly, with a laugh.

“Probably for the best, as I doubt he has acquaintance with any women in town, much less anywhere else.”

Samuel entered with two heaping platters of pork chops, bacon, and eggs, and was immediately followed by Pete and Striker. He set the food upon the table and regarded us, or rather the spaces in front of us, quizzically. With a heavy sigh, he went to fetch plates and flatware from the sideboard. I wondered how long they had been without Ella.

Then a graver matter occurred to me. “Can any of us cook in a reasonable fashion, beyond the obvious fish upon a stick or making boucan? We’re talking of letting a house; and I fear that without the constant supervision of an individual versed in the arts of cooking and cleaning, we will shortly be living in a den with bones heaped upon the walls, because we forgot there are no sharks about to clean up after us when we fling things.”

The others were amused, with the exception of Pete, who seemed to possess both an aching head and a serious regard for the topic.

“Dahgs,” he said.

Striker patted him gently on the shoulder. “They cannot cook or be sent to the market or refill lanterns with oil.”

“I will place inquiries,” Theodore said, and then frowned. “How many of you will be dwelling there?”

“At least six, I would imagine,” I said. “Possibly more, as the need arises; but they would be billeted as they are now.” I smiled.

“That is lovely,” he sighed. “I would suggest purchasing at least two hearty slaves of a congenial nature, if they can be found.”

“Who Can Cook,” Pete added around a mouthful of pork chop.

“You may be forced to take what you can get, and I would place priority on the congenial nature,” Theodore replied grimly.

Pete frowned and looked to his matelot for explanation.

“He thinks we may be difficult to live with,” Striker said with a chuckle.

“Me Hard To Live With?”

“Nay, non,” we all assured him.

The house we were to let sat in the triangular corner at the intersection of Lime and New streets. The lot was larger than Theodore’s, possessing a goodly yard with a chicken coop and small goat pen in addition to cookhouse, cistern and latrine. The house was also of greater size, and had four rooms upon the upper floors and three upon the lower, with an additional small room protruding into the yard for servants. We were pleased with the place, as it would afford the space we required.

The original owner’s brother, a Mister Abraham Arpenasus, who I learned had come here from Brazil, was not pleased about the prospect of letting the place to buccaneers. Then Theodore made much of my title and that I was a plantation owner and the like; and the man became assured that not only would we pay, in advance, but we would also not burn the building to the ground as the result of some Bacchanalian festivity. I was sorely tempted to let him know that such a thing was perhaps more likely to occur because I was an Earl’s son.

As the necessary papers were signed and money exchanged, I inquired if he knew of any slaves or bondsmen for sale, or perhaps a housekeeper for hire. He regarded me coldly from behind his well-groomed but flowing beard and brows.

“You be sodomites?” he asked abruptly.

As Pete and Striker were engaged at the chicken coop, which the Golden One had developed a fascination with, Theodore, Gaston, and I blinked with surprise.

“Aye,” I answered brusquely, before Theodore could attempt to dissemble or in other way deflect the situation, as I was sure he would.

“All who would live here be sodomites?” Arpenasus asked. “No man amongst you with a fondness for women?”

“Aye and none,” I said.

“Then wait here, if you please.” He hurried two houses down the street, and went inside.

We all regarded one another, and Theodore sighed, “At least he signed the contract first.”

“I have an inkling as to why he asked,” I said.

“And what would that be?” Theodore snapped.

“Let us see if my suspicion proves out,” I replied firmly. When Arpenasus emerged from the house with a woman, I knew myself to be correct. I rewarded Theodore with a triumphant grin, and he regarded me quizzically before turning his attention to the pair approaching us.

The woman was possibly of an age with Gaston and me. She was no longer a girl, but still young. She possessed a confident gait, and she looked each of us over in turn as she approached. She was quite fetching, as she was slim of form and had a pleasing countenance. She was swathed in black from the scarf upon her head to the boots on her feet; and I wondered how, in Port Royal’s heat, she did not melt away like butter in the sun.

Pete and Striker joined us; Pete had a chicken tucked under his arm and a wide grin.

“It’sGreen,” he proclaimed proudly. The fowl did indeed have a green sheen to its black feathers. Pete held it out by the feet, and turned it this way and that, so that we might better observe this interesting color.

“He is not always like that,” Theodore said quickly.

The rest of us regarded Theodore incredulously.

“Well actually he is,” I said.

The woman suppressed a smile. Pete noticed her for the first time, and stepped back and pointed with approximately the same degree of consternation the Bard had evinced upon finding hogs upon his ship.

“Bah.”

Arpenasus chuckled. “I see I have nothing to fear. This is my niece, Rachel. She is a widow with no children.”

I noted that Rachel winced ever so slightly at this.

“She would be available at two shillings a month to keep house, under the condition that nothing untoward occurs concerning her person. She is not to be subjected to any lewdness or advances.”

“Sir, I feel I can reasonably assure you that that will not be an issue,” I said.

Arpenasus returned to his house, and I made introductions.

Rachel nodded respectfully to each of us, and I could see that she was attempting to decide who we all were in relation to one another.

Pete was still playing with the squawking fowl.

“That is a laying hen,” Rachel told him in an authoritative voice that showed she was not at all cowed by the large, half-naked barbarian.

“Put her back in the coop.”

The Golden One did not pout, as he usually did when scolded.

His features settled into a scowl, and his body shifted ever so subtly to a fighter’s footing. I quickly surmised that Striker had not been exaggerating when he told us Pete did not like women.