"The Pirate, The Princess, & The Promise"

[TonyDee2014]

"The Pirate, The Princess, & The Promise"

(This role play is closed to CurtailedAmbrosia)​

Western Mediterranean
1616:

Capitan Marcel de Espina drew in a deep breath of salt air, held it a long moment, then puffed it out before him into the cold night. The thick cloud of vapor quickly dispersed in the wind crossing steadily to starboard over the deck of the Black Dawn. He smiled, pleased, then slapped the back of a hand playfully upon the chest of the unsuspecting man standing to his left.

"It's a good night to be a pirate, Guido!" Marc declared to the startled First Mate. He laughed at his Number Two, promising him, "Tonight, my friend, we become rich men."

Guido laughed with his captain before returning his gaze to their prey, a heavier and slower merchant ship traveling eastward across the Western Mediterranean. Their lookouts had spotted the craft on the horizon a couple of hours before sunset, and now, after nearly 8 hours of crafty seamanship, the Black Dawn was now bearing down on their prey without its crew having any idea of the imminent danger.

"Rich men," the Italian sailor repeated to his Catalonian Captain. "Richer than yesterday, yet not as rich as tomorrow."

Marc laughed aloud at his old friend's favored saying, then returned his own gaze to the white sails that were now less than two miles ahead of them. After the sun had finally descended out of sight, the Black Dawn's own white sails had been quickly lowered and swapped out for the nearly-black ones. The crew had thought their Captain mad for spending every last coin in his own treasure chest on the new and thrice-more-expensive canvas.

But Marc had reassured the men that the sails would make them nearly invisible for night raids. And true to his word, they were closing on the merchant ship without any sign at all that they'd been seen. Marc's very skilled navigator had set them on a course that had taken them out before and across the merchant ship's easterly course without cutting across the reflection of the moon upon the sea's surface. When the time and wind direction were right, they'd cut hard to starboard and begun sailing right for their target.

Marc was confident that tonight's attack would be different from those of the recent past. Times had been hard on the crews of the Black Dawn and their pirating brethren. Hundreds of sovereignties used the waters of the Mediterranean to move their goods, from the largest of kingdoms down to the smallest of counties.

That was good for pirates, obviously.

Unfortunately, though, there had been an explosion in the number of conflicts, again both large and small, between many of those nations. And that had resulted in a greater number of war ships sailing the Med'.

The life of a pirate had become more dangerous than usual over the year of Marc's captainship. The Black Dawn had lost half of its crew during that time: they'd suffered 12 casualties to violence and illness and another 8 to desertion. The 44 foot long, single mast sloop could easily be sailed with it current crew of 21. But a smaller and less formidable boarding party of fierce, vicious pirates meant that sometimes the crews of the merchant ships felt emboldened to stand up against their attackers, rather than simply surrender their cargo to avoid bloodshed.

Marc didn't like slaughtering the less militant merchant crews any more than they liked being slaughtered. But, his men had the same need to eat, drink, and be merry as any others, and if Marc couldn't fulfill their needs, they would replace him with someone who could.

"Get the men ready," Marc told Guido as the distance between the ships dropped to less than a mile. As the man head off down the port side of the ship, Marc waved another pirate to the tiller. He made his own way slowly down the starboard side, reminding the men one by one as he passed, "Remember, a dead hostage is a worthless hostage."

He reached the bow where he found Guido manning the cannon. Marc reminded even his second in command, "We want to scare them so bad they shit their pants, not shoot the shit out of them. Let's try not to make a mess."

There was less than a hundred yards between the two boats when suddenly a bell began ringing loud and fast on the other ship. Marc barked out orders to man the railings and grappling lines, an unnecessary order as the Black Dawn's well trained men were already at their stations, awaiting to board their prey.

Mark rushed back aft again. He hurried to the railing to judge the ships' relative courses and speeds, hesitated a moment, then commanded the man at the tiller, "Hard to port! Now!"

As he helped the other pirate turn the wheel hard and fast, the Black Dawn began listing to starboard as it turned hard to port. The cannon at the other end of the boat fired, the fiery explosion of gunpowder sending a deadly cloud of grape shot through the night. A moment later the dozens of small steel balls ripped through canvas and wood. They might very well have ripped through flesh as well, but as it would happen none found a human target. The cannon fire had the desired effect though: the night watch quickly abandoned his ringing of the bell, and the handful of men who had by now reached the main deck dropped to find cover, essentially removing them from the fight for the moment.

Other voices were beginning to waft through the night from the commercial ship as it came alive. But they were nearly drowned out by the sound of a dozen matchlock pistols sending their own shot at the target craft. The bows of the two ships slammed into one another, and grappling hooks flew through the air to catch rigging and railings alike. A dozen hands pulled the lines, uniting the two craft as one as the remaining pirates began leaping the gap to board their prize.

Marc and his fellow tiller mate abandoned their now unnecessary steerage duty and joined the boarding. By the time he was on the other ship, his crew already had most of the merchant crew face down upon the deck while the stragglers were being brought up from below at the point of a sword. There was little resistance, and what there was ended quickly as fists, clubs, and hilts crashed against sensitive body parts from skulls to groins. In total, the merchant men had suffered a minor leg wound from the grape shot and a handful of busted noses or fattened lips from the fight that followed. They would all not only survive but would look none the worse for wear in less than a moon.

"Where's the Captain?" Marc called out in the region's predominant Catalan. He repeated that question in two other Spanish dialects, then in English, Italian, and French. "Which of you is the Captain of this boat?"

"I am," a meek voice called out from just inside the hatch accessing the aft portion of the schooner. An older man wearing only uniform trousers and an under shirt was escorted topside, where he tried unsuccessfully to hide his fear as he stood tall and announced in his native Castilian, "I am the captain of this vessel, which is the sovereign property of the Baron Leon de Urraca. If you disembark from this craft immediately, I will attempt to--"

The merchant man didn't get any farther as Guido slammed an elbow into his gut, dropping the Captain to his knees, gasping for air. Marc moved closer to the man from the north coast of Spain and asked politely, "You have passengers aboard, yes?"

The Captain didn't immediately answer, but as Guido pressed the sole of his boot down upon vulnerable fingers, the man quickly nodded his head. "Just one, m'lord."

"M'lord?" Marc asked with humor. He looked about himself to his men, some of whom were smiling while others laughed with amusement. "I like that. M'lord. Just one you say?"

As pressure was applied to his hand again, the Captain clarified through his continuing cries of pain, "Just one, m'lord. And her servant. Her lady in waiting."

"Two women, alone?" Marc asked curiously. "Do they not have an escort? A male, soldier or protector?"

"They did, m'lord," the Captain continued. "Second day at sea in a storm he fell overboard, saving my First Mate."

"But you didn't turn back?"

"No, m'lord," the man on his knees continued. "M'lady is on a schedule. I don't know any more than that, m'lord. Please don't kill me."

A schooner this size had half a dozen comfortable cabins in which Nobles and Merchants traveled about the Med. It was possible that there simply hadn't been anyone else needing transport east through the Med. Or, it was possible that this one Lady was very important and the ship had been dispatched solely to serve her.

In his mind, as well as in those of his men, Marc was immediately thinking ransom with concern to the Lady and her servant. Actually, some of the men, and to be honest Marc himself, were also thinking pussy. But while he may have been just a pirate, Marc was also a gentlemen. For the most part, anyway. Although there wouldn't be anyone or anything to stop him from finding pleasure between the thighs of this presumably Noble woman, Marc would forego raping her for now.

"Go down and fetch your lady and her servant," Marc told the Captain as he was lifted to his feet once more. "Concerning killing you, no harm shall come to you, your crew, or your passengers, so long as you offer no resistance, and do as you are commanded. Is that understood?"

The Captain nodded enthusiastically, and when pressed to do so, repeated aloud to his people, "Offer no resistance, and we shall all live."

"After you have escorted your Lady and her servant topside, I will send my men below decks," Marc told the Captain with a threatening voice, "If they find anyone left below, they will cut the throats of any men and violate the slits of any women found as well. So, please..."

He didn't finish the threat, seeing in the Captain eyes a full understanding of his warning. Marc gestured the man away, then gave his own crew their orders. In a flash, they had the merchant men gathering and transferring to the Black Dawn anything of significant value. Marc, for his part, stood at the top of the ladder leading to the cabins with Guido at his side, waiting for his hostage to emerge.



Description of Capitan Marcel de Espina:

Image
6'2", 195 pounds.
32 years of age.
Fit, strong, and muscular though not overly so.
Dark brown hair, slightly wavy, worn up in a pony tailing when he's pirating but down onto his shoulders in more personal times.
Mesmerizing, steel blue eyes.
Typically carries a simple long sword on his left hip, a long dagger on his right, and a variety of blades hidden in his boots and up his sleeves.

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

Catalina de Rosa was the third daughter to the King of Spain, a product of the aging king's second marriage to her mother- the current Queen Consort of Spain and herself the daughter of a prominent Duc in France. Her betrothed could never hope to have a serious claim to the throne, but as her mother was an only child and she in turn her only child, there would be holdings there for their future children.

She might not have had the position or the lands her two elder sisters possessed, but the youngest princess was still a princess, and a rather beautiful one at that. It was said her betrothed accepted a marriage arrangement based on her portrait alone. Having taken after her mother, she was a fair skinned, golden haired beauty with stormy grey eyes and a small pink bud of a mouth.

Currently, the royal bride to be was asleep, nestled in a down mattress beneath fine linen sheets. The rocking of the waves was soothing, carrying away her anxieties and fears of leaving home, of marriage, of her responsibilities.

When the peal of a bell sliced through her restful sleep, she was at first more regretful than alarmed. "Mm...Ana?" She murmured aloud, lashes parting so she could blink blearily in the candlelit room.

She sat up as her mother's trusted attendant set aside her stitching, eyes wide. "An attack mi'lady!"[/i]

The words were barely out of the frightened woman's mouth when a blast of cannonfire boomed, the older woman screaming and toppling out of her chair in a fright.

!

Catalina threw her covers aside and slipped out of bed, moving to help her harried attendant up off the floor. Both of them were in little more than shifts and stockings, Ana's dark hair caught up in a sleeping cap. "You must be calm Ana!" The ensuing sound of pistol fire had her own heart hammering, but there was little to gain in panic, especially as she tried to shake off the last bits of grogginess.

She had nearly righted them both when the ship took a hit and seemed to shake, knocking them both to their knees. "Who would be attacking?" Catalina asked anxiously, clawing back to her feet and drawing her woman up with her. "Surely no knew-we aren't flying Father's standard-"

"No one knows we're here, maybe we can hide in your trunk..." The other woman didn't seem to hear her, was busy babbling worriedly to herself. Catalina went to the door and opened it an inch or two-only to slam it closed again, her eyes widened. Men with swords were forcing merchant sailors above deck-pirates. Lord in heaven, pirates.

"Quickly Ana, the trunk-"

"We'll crawl inside?"

"No, bring it here and we'll barricade the door-"

The two women worked together to push, slide, and shove the trunk of clothing and plate against the door to their quarters. Catalina stepped back, her heart still in her throat. "We need a weapon of some kind-" She muttered to herself, turning to search the room-an ultimately fruitless effort. All she was able to produce was a heavy silver candlestick and the heavy bed warmer.

"You can't mean to fight them!" Ana exclaimed in a horrified whisper, returning to her side.

"I don't know Ana, Philip is no longer with us, we...we have to do something-" "No, not us, no. They'd kill you soon as look at you." Ana took the candlestick and bed warmer, setting them aside before throwing a shawl around her young charge's shoulders.

A knock came at the door and both women froze. "Don't answer it."

"Mi'lady, mi'lady please-"

"It's the captain! Quickly, the door-"

"Princess you are not decent-"

"Never mind that-"

The two slid the trunk aside and opened the door, finding the distraught, frightened old man who captained the ship.

"My lady, I am so sorry."
//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Ana was a mess. Catalina could scarcely believe this was happening for her part-but she doubted tears would get them far. If anything, that might just embolden the pirates. She hoped...she prayed she could talk them out of this altogether.

The Captain ascended the ladder first, helped the shaking Ana safely ascend-and was waved off when he reached for the younger woman climbing up behind them. Even in her state of dress and the circumstances, she managed to keep her composure-though her youthful face betrayed a hint of fear and anxiety, even as her intelligent stormy grey eyes swept the deck and surveyed the fallout. This then, was the noblewoman. The wind whipped at her shapeless white shift and long blonde, golden hair. She pulled the shawl a little tighter around her slim form, repressing shivers.

"These are the two ladies, mi'lord." Catalina heard the captain say nervously, but she kept her eyes on the man who might very well be deciding their fates. She felt a little desperate-there was little she could do, but she hoped to spare Ana, in the very least-the woman had served her mother faithfully, had come on this journey to see her settled before returning.

 

[TonyDee2014]

As Guido stepped away to supervise the pillaging of the schooner's wealth, Marc simply waited at the top of the hatch stairs and watched the activity. He smiled as he recalled his First Mate's earlier words, richer than yesterday, yet not as rich as tomorrow. And they were certainly richer now. The boat had been transporting every thing from French wines and English edged weapons to Spanish textiles and German ales.

When he returned to stand next to his superior, Guido reported with a sound of suspicion, "El capitan, I do not believe this was a simple merchant ship." When Marc asked what he meant by this, the First Mate continued, "The wide variety of goods aboard..."

"Continue," Marc requested, now taking closer note of the loot being hurriedly transferred to the Black Dawn. "I don't see anything particularly unique about it."

"It all seems just a bit too..." Guido began. He paused for a moment. He looked about himself again, as Marc had. He finished, "Too personal."

"The Lady," Marc responded, finally understanding what his second in command meant. "You think these are her personal possessions."

"There are a dozen casks of wine, as well as two dozen barrels of gun powder and a four crates of long guns," Guido continued. "These, I do not believe, are hers."

"They could be regular cargo, for sell at the ship's destination," Marc filled in. Guido nodded. "While the rest..."

Marc went silent as he caught sight of the merchant ship's Captain rising from below deck, aiding an older woman up the steep steps. She was not fully dressed, wearing little more than her sleeping shift and a cloak thrown over her shoulders. As his earlier thought about ransom and pussy returned to him, Marc couldn't help but smile.

"You can have the servant," Marc joked with the nearly decade older Guido. "I'll take the Lady."

As his younger friend and Captain stuck him playfully in the ribs with a sharp elbow, Guido asked, "How do you know this isn't the Lady, and the next one -- yours -- isn't even older and, how do I put it, Captain, less appealing?"

They laughed together as the Captain headed back down the ladder for the second woman. Marc's assumption that the first woman to ascend the ladder was the servant was based upon what both he and Guido were presuming about the second woman, based upon the cargo his men were now looting from the ship: she was probably a betrothed Noble woman sailing off to a foreign land to marry some even higher ranking man whom she was yet to even meet.

"I'll wager you first pick from the pillage," Marc told his friend. "If she's a dog face, or if she's wider than she is taller, you get to choose--"

But Marc went silent when the Captain rose again from the hatch and stepped aside to reveal the second of the ladies. She was young with a porcelain skinned face of fair skin, her body definitely not wider than tall; the latter was well curved, as was made even more noticeable by the shift and cloak that were all that she, too, was wearing.

"These are the two ladies, mi'lord." the merchant ship captain said nervously, stepping a bit more aside.

Marc simply stood in place and in silence for a moment. His gaze moved conspicuously downward to her stocking feet, then back upward to settle for a moment on her young, firm breasts and the all too conspicuous nipples that were being hardened by the night chill.

The older of the two women must have noticed the ogle her lady was receiving for she stepped closer to her charge and pulled the cloak tighter around her bosom, tying the strings that had been dangling there. Marc was suddenly aware of his leering, and he diverted his eyes. When he did, he found that the pillaging of the ship had come to a near standstill as all of his men turned their attention to the young beauty at the top of the steps.

"Back to work, ya loafers!" Guido hollered out after he, too, caught sight of the work stoppage. "We must be gone before sunrise, before some warship comes upon us if you don't want to swing!"

"Go to the ladies' staterooms," Marc told one of his men as he caught him passing by. "Find them some warmer clothes..."

"Aye, Cap'n," the pirate said, turning.

But Marc caught the man by the shirt sleeve, stopping him. He pulled his dagger and pointed the sharp tip at the man's neck. "Clothes only, man. If I learn you've pocketed anything."

"Aye, Cap'n," the wide eyed pirate repeated. He turned and tilted his hat to the women respectfully as he passed and headed into the hatch, telling the younger, "Ma'am."

"M'ladies, let me introduce myself," Marc said to the ladies after the pirate was gone. He removed his hat and gave them an exaggerated bow, continuing, "Marcel de Espina de Ibiza, Capitan of the sloop, Black Dawn, of Port de Sant Miquel."

He rose to height again, replacing his hat as he smiled and told them, "I am at your service, m'lady."

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

Catalina felt a blush rise to her face as so many eyes turned to stare at her in her bedclothes-she might have felt more embarrassed if she weren't so suddenly that much more afraid. Exposed. When Ana stepped close and drew the shawl tighter around her frame, it was all she could do not to embrace the older woman and hide behind her.

"You mustn't give yourself away." Ana said in fervent French as she tied the strings to secure the garment. She assumed none there but they could speak it. Her eyes were intent on the various men surrounding them. "You must lie." Catalina gave a curt, if uncertain nod as she watched the dark haired ring leader threaten one of his men at knife point. Would it be better to claim to be no one or to try and bluff a lesser title? What was the use? They were -pirates-. Pirates!
Why on earth had her father ever thought it prudent to send her by sea?

This captain-would he really murder them both? Would he allow his men to hurt them before they were murdered? She felt the tremors in her hands, and it wasn't just from cold. But for now, they were unaccosted. For now, thank merciful Jesus, they were still of themselves.

Out of reflex, Catalina returned the pirate's hat tip with a nod-before her eyes shifted back to the captain. He removed his hat with a flourish and gave his name, Ana squeezing her hand tightly at the mention of his ship.

The young woman hesitates a moment, uncertain-and then her lips part to speak. "It would seem more as if I am at yours, Sir Marcel." Her voice was melodic and soft, yet carried a bit of presence to it, even with her looking so very anxious. She searched her mind for a lie but came up empty, moving on ahead. "Perhaps you might make use of these goods and allow us and these gentlemen to continue on our journey?" Her voice trailed off a little towards the end, a mixture of hopeful and hopeless.

 

[TonyDee2014]

The younger woman suggested, "Perhaps you might make use of these goods and allow us and these gentlemen to continue on our journey?"

"Oh, I would love to do nothing less, M'lady," Marc responded. He swept his hands toward his men who were once again swarming the ship, removing anything of value not nailed down. In a voice loud enough for them, he continued, "But I have promised my men that they will richer today than they were yesterday..."

There was a roar of delight, after which he continued, "...and richer tomorrow than they are today."

After another even louder roar of delight, Marc turned his attention back to the Lady. "And while the goods that you have so generously offered us constitute a significant pay day, I believe that the ransom we would get from returning such a beautiful Noble woman to her family would fetch us more gold than all of this plunder and ship combined."

He glanced toward the servant, then the merchant man. Would their reactions give away anything concerning the woman's true importance?

<<<< >>>>​

Meanwhile, the pirate Marc had sent below was carefully searching the Lady's cabin for valuables, despite his Captain's threat. He located a small, locked wooden box, smashed it open, and pocketed the purse of silver and gold and jewelry that spilled out. There was also a gold ring with a Family Seal that the ignorant young pirate didn't recognize as being that of the Spanish Court. To him, it was just something to exchange for drinking money and whores.

He considered the box's remaining contents: documents and letters. He knew they had to be important, or they wouldn't have been locked away with a small treasure. He was illiterate and unconcerned with words, though; his only concern was not having the open box found by his shipmates. He moved to the stateroom's porthole and threw the box out to the sea...

...without knowing that inside the box had been everything that identified the mysterious Lady as Catalina de Rosa, third daughter of the King and Queen Consort of Spain. Among other documents, it had included her formal letter of introduction to the Court of her betrothed, Paulo de' Malatesti.

Paulo wasn't the kind of Noble who would normally have attracted the attention of the Spanish Court or the Vatican, let alone land a beautiful young Princess. In fact, until just a few years ago, Paulo hadn't even been a recognized Noble. He was the son of Ferdinando de' Malatesti, who in turn had been the bastard son of Malatesta de' Malatesti...

...and Maria de' Medici...

...daughter of the now long dead Cosimo I de' Medici, once the Grand Duke of Tuscany and one of Italy's most powerful and influential men.

History would go on to tell that the 17 year old, virginal Maria de' Medici had died of spotted fever in 1557. In truth, Maria had died shortly after delivering a healthy baby boy, Ferdinando. The pregnant Maria had been hidden away from her ruthless father by the Malatestis, and her son would be, too. Ferdinando was a bastard son, and he could be nothing more than a problem for the House of Medici.

Then, in 1612, after 55 years of denying Ferdinando's bloodline, the Medici Family had found itself in need of an alliance with the House of Malatesti. Ferdinando was posthumously confirmed as a Medici, and his own son, Paulo, was declared a Duke and given titles and lands within the Grand Duchy of Tuscany.

Now, 4 years later at age 40, Paulo needed a wife. The House of Medici had dangled several women of Noble birth before him, but Paulo already knew who he wanted: Catalina de Rosa. He'd traveled to Spain shortly after his elevation to Nobility, where he'd met the young Spanish Princess at a party thrown by her parents.

Paulo doubted that now Catalina could pick him out of a crowd of two. But he had become hopelessly obsessed with the young beauty. He'd written her dozens of letters over the past 20 months, not knowing whether any of them had gotten past her parents. Whether they had or not, the Spanish Crown and Vatican had pushed through the marriage contract, and soon enough he would be enjoying the pleasures of the young beauty's body in his bed.

Or so he had thought.

<<<< >>>>​

"M'ladies," Marc said politely after the pirate had delivered the heavier, warmer cloaks and returned to looting with his crew mates. Again, he gestured with a sweeping hand, telling them, "If you wouldn't mind boarding my ship, we could see about getting you some comfortable accommodations. I will more than happily give up my own stateroom."

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

The princess did not notice the sway of her maid servant or the Captain's crossing of his chest as the pirate made his intentions clear. Her own fear had numbed her, the sound of her pulse suddenly in her ears and the world looking hazier than the dark should have made it.

She must do something. But what? All she had was the silver knife taken from their table. She could not fight all of them. Ana had said to lie. If she was no one there would be little value in keeping her alive. If she was too important they might demand too high a ransom, and they would almost certainly never let Ana go.

Ana. Yes, she might not save herself, but she could save the loyal lady in waiting. Catalina's mind clung to that and she felt a swell of confidence, of power as she set about a task she was -sure- she could complete.

"I have no doubt there'd be a reward for my return." She said with grace, keeping her eyes on him despite the activity around them. Lying was most certainly a sin. But there wouldn't be a priest to hear of it for some time, and surely they would understand.

"But why hold onto and feed two women? Especially not when you could try for two ransoms on just the one...?"

"Mi'lady, no." Ana hissed, but Catalina charged on unabated, her head held high despite the wind and cold, the situation. She was no statesmen, but she was a -lady-. And this lady neither talked down to him nor fluffed up her own importance. She was young, but she had a grace about her that spoke to nobility.

"I am sailing to be married, Sir Marcel." She told him pleasantly. "Send my servant to my betrothed-he'll surely pay a price on top of whatever my father, the Duke of Caminha, offers." Ana sucked in a breath and went still.

"It's the least he can do, given I am being kidnapped due to our impending nuptials."

 

[TonyDee2014]

"I have no doubt there'd be a reward for my return."

Marc considered the Lady’s words, no doubt. That meant she was, indeed, someone of some importance. Or, at the least, she thought she was.

"I am sailing to be married, Sir Marcel."

Well, that confirmed what Guido had guessed about the uniqueness of the pillaged loot. Her didn’t recognize her father’s name, the Duke of Caminha. But that wasn't surprising: he was a pirate, not a politician; and there were over 50 Duchies in Castilian Spain, let alone the remainder of the Iberian Peninsula; and Duchies seemed to get dissolved every time a Duke angered the King or created every time one pleased him.

She continued about her future husband, "It's the least he can do, given I am being kidnapped due to our impending nuptials."

"If I was your betrothed, m'lady," Marc said, tipping his hat and again bowing, "I would give up the world to keep you safe."

He called back his First Mate, who had been helping secure the merchant men below in a hold, leaving only the vessel's Captain above deck. "Guido, please escort our guest to my stateroom, make her comfortable, get her anything she needs. Food, drink. Build a fire if she's cold."

Marc let Catalina make her farewells with her servant, then waited for Guido to usher her away to the gang plank spanning the gap between the two ships. He told the merchant ship's captain to escort the servant down to the Lady's stateroom to pack up her possessions for transfer. He then told the servant that she would be allowed to continue onward to her destination.

"I will arrange for word of your Lady's ransom to be sent to you," Marc told Ana, adding, "And I assure you that she will be safe and secure in my care. No harm shall come to your Lady."

Marc sent them away, escorted by the two Greek pirates who constituted his personal bodyguard. He had rescued the two brothers from execution when they were just 13 and 14 years old, and they'd been at his side ever since. The Black Dawn's crew list included men from 13 different nations, from Spain in the west and Turkey in the east to Prussia in the north and Egypt in the south; and between them, they spoke nearly every language and major dialect Marc had been exposed to during his life as a pirate, making it much easier to get across to merchant ship crews his desire to have their goods rather than their lives.

Marc could see that the stripping of the ship's contents was continuing perfectly without him, so he headed over the plank to the Black Dawn and into the hull to his stateroom.

(OOC: Imagine it narrower. The Black Dawn isn't big enough to have a stateroom so large, but I couldn't find an image I liked.)

There he found Guido watching over Catalina as pirates (sometimes alone, sometimes in pairs) were delivering the more valuable pillaged goods. The gunpowder, food, and other such items would go to the holds, the kitchen, and to other more appropriate locations. But the gold, silver, silks, and (of course) the Lady's personal possessions would all end up here under Marc's personal care.

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

"If I was your betrothed, m'lady, I would give up the world to keep you safe."

She could only hope that was true of Paulo-she knew better than to expect it from her father. But even if her father could not be moved to act out of love, he would certainly act out of pride. A pirate making off with his personal property, his daughter-she could almost see him turning purple.

"My sweet child, what have you done?" Ana hissed in French, pulling her charge in close and reflexively smoothing her hair, staring worriedly at her. She had raised her as one of her own. The daughter of her most beloved mistress-and now she was parting in most grievous circumstances. "They are -pirates-."

But the golden haired princess only smiled a weak, victorious smile-and then she was whisked away by an older pirate. Ana had never felt so helpless.

No harm shall come to your Lady."

"I should hope not, esteemed sir." Ana said thickly as she watched the foolish princess disappear onto the deck of the other ship. "You carry most precious cargo, now."

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The stolen beauty looked out of place in the captain's stateroom, her pale skin luminescent in the flickering firelight that danced over it, her posture demure in the ladylike, graceful way she was seated on one side of the bunk. She had chosen the most out of the way spot to be it seemed, watching men move in and out of the small space while her fingers toyed with something beneath the cloak. Scandalously, her stocking'd calves were exposed, her dainty feet not quite brushing the floor.

 

[KingOfOregon]

(OOC: For anyone following the story, I am TonyDee2014. I attempted to change my email address and got locked out of Yahoo, so I switched to a different email provider and created this ID. So, I'm not stealing Tony's RP, is what I'm saying. That ID is now dead and gone unfortunately.)



"How 'bout you go to the galley, my friend," Marc told Guido after taking a moment to look Catalina over. She looked obviously and expectedly nervous and scared as she found a position in the far reaches of the stateroom. "Maybe we could find something a little more suitable for the lady than our standard pirate fare."

Guido laughed and hesitated, and when Marc gave him a curious look, the man told him, "Honesty, the best food the Black Dawn has to offer is probably that which we just stole from the merchant ship."

Marc couldn't help but laugh as Guido's comment carried a great deal of truthfulness in it. He gestured the man away, paused while another pair of pirates delivered a large chest full of Catalina's personal possessions, then turned his attention back to his guest.

"You need not be frightened, m'lady," Marc told her, taking a couple of slow steps closer. "No harm will come to you while you are in my care, I assure you. I may be a pirate, but I'm not an animal. Although, I know a few pirates who are animals."

His attempt to use humor to lighten the mood didn't seem to help the situation much. He moved to the tiny cast iron stove and added a couple of more small log splits to it. He added water to the pot that attached securely to it to prevent spillage during rough seas and told his guest that he had several types of eastern tea, as well as both an African coffee and herbal powder.

"The herb will help you sleep," he said, just trying to make conversation. That topic alerted him to his lack of good hosting: he moved to the small bed and ripped away the bedding, tossing it aside as he scanned Catalina's trunks. "I'm sure you have blankets and linens finer than my own, m'lady. Would you like my help in making the bed?"

Marc suddenly realized that he was beginning to feel a bit self conscious. His stateroom wasn't exactly a palace bedroom. But it wasn't a peasant hovel either. It was warm due to the stove and the summer season; it was relatively dry, considering it was at the ass end of a boat sailing the Mediterranean Sea; and it had all the amenities of a room in a coastal port Inn, including its own barrel of fresh water and a chamber pot below a comfortable chair, as opposed to simply out in the open for a person to squat over.

Yet, without having any idea where his guest had come from, Marc was certain that it didn't measure up to the bedroom that she had been used to before setting sail.

His guest, he thought to himself, thinking also, m'lady. He couldn't very well call her one of those for the extent of the time she was with him. He removed his hat one again, telling her, "Although my name is Marcel, m'lady, I would be honored if you called me Marc. It is what my family called me before..."

He didn't complete the sentence with ...I became a pirate. That wasn't a conversation he wanted to have with her. How does one explain how one became a pillager of ships, a killer of men, a taker of hostages?

He asked her politely, "Is there something I could call you other than m'lady ... m'lady?"

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

"Although, I know a few pirates who are animals." His attempt to reassure her had already had low chance in success-but his joke seemed to heighten her anxiety rather than curb it, the beauty's eyes flitting to the door where the two unknown men had just left.

She watched him return to the stove. He promised she would not be harmed. He spoke of tea and coffee, an herbal powder that could help one sleep-she had zero intention of sleeping.

He turned suddenly and made for the bed, Catalina slipping from it with some alarm-and then he ripped away the bedding. To say she was confused would have been an understatement.

"I'm sure you have blankets and linens finer than my own, m'lady. Would you like my help in making the bed?"

She couldn't decide if that was thoughtful or terrifying that he'd thought to change the linens at all. After a moment of indecision, she ventured an uncertain, pretty smile. "I can make a bed. Contrary to belief, not all noblewomen are entirely helpless."

Such strange circumstances she found herself in, trading a small joke with a pirate.

As covertly as possible, she slipped the little knife into the tied garter ribbon around her upper right thigh, then moved out from under the concealing cloak to the chest. She did not spend long choosing-just found the first set of linens available and retrieved them for the bed.

"Sir Marc." She repeated, her eyes on her task-though she hesitated when asked her own name. She dared not be honest-but what would she possibly answer to without fail?

"It...is not proper, but...Rose." She ventured the English variation of her nickname. They called her Catalina de Rosa.

Catherine the Rose.

 

[KingOfOregon]

(OOC: I'm going to abandon my blue for repeating dialogue and use bold like you do. My phone doesn't do quote marks that Literotica recognizes, which makes it difficult.)

After he introduced himself, Catalina responded, "Sir Marc."

The pirate captain couldn't help but laugh. "Marc is enough, m'lady. Though, up top, Captain would probably be more appropriate."

She seemed hesitant when she continued about her own name, "It...is not proper, but...Rose."

"Rose," he practically whispered back at her. "Appropriate. For you are as beautiful as one."

He wasn't sure as he couldn't see her face as she made the bed, but his hostage's reaction to his compliment may have been one of discomfort. "I'm sorry, m'lady. Rose. I am sometimes a bit too familiar. I mean no offense."

Marc diverted his eyes when Rose glanced back at him, but when she returned to spreading and tucking blankets, he couldn't help but let his eyes take a walk up and down her body. Her body was as incredible as her face, making Marc wish he wasn't as gentlemanly as he was. He could very easily take her right here, right now; force himself onto and into her, partaking of what was probably the tightest pussy in the whole of the Western Mediterranean.

But, he wouldn't. At least, he hoped he wouldn't. Nobles didn't pay substantial ransoms for ruined women. In fact, often they didn't pay at all.

Foot steps behind him announced Guido's return, and as he passed through the open door with a silver platter full of food (the platter and food both having come from the merchant ship) the First Mate's eyes widened at the sight of the Lady in fewer clothes than he'd seen her in as of yet. He looked to Marc and gave him a smile. Another pirate followed in behind them carrying a pitcher of warm goat's milk and another of weak wine, the former courtesy of the merchant ship while the former came the Black Dawn's own stash.

Marc gestured the men out, then told Catalina, "I will leave you to your privacy, m'lady. Rose. If there is nothing more that you need from me."

He wanted her to understand that although she would be alone in his cabin, she wouldn't be alone, so he told her, "I will have a pair of men outside to serve you, should you need anything."

If she had no more for him, Marc would return topside to check on the pillaging. They only had about an hour of darkness left, and he wanted to be separated and sailing away from the larger, more obvious merchant ship before the sun came up.

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

There was a silence, almost thoughtful after he spoke so frankly, brought a light, fetching blush to her porcelain face.

"It can a very unlucky thing, to be thought beautiful." He might note she didn't say 'to be beautiful.' She said 'to be thought' beautiful. A genuine stroke of humility.

"If I were thought to be ugly, perhaps I would not be sailing to unknown parts for a marriage with a stranger." She smoothed the spread and turned to sit prettily on the edge of the bed once more, a wistful, small smile curving her lips. "Perhaps in the next life."

She thanked the pirates politely but did not move to touch anything, a slight incline of her head as he departed. And then she was alone.

He has promised her safety. Would he uphold it? Catalina's eyes drifted to the window. She could slip through, drop into the ocean. To what, drown? She could not swim. If only...then she might make it back to her ship, and hopefully be on the waves before anyone noted she was missing.

She drew in a deep breath, held it-and exhaled. Drowning would be an ill fitting end. So would murder by pirate.

She frowned and rose to stand. Well, she would at least get herself dressed. It was humiliating enough to be found in such disarray, let alone paraded in front of strange and bloodthirsty men.

She lifted the weak glass of wine and sipped from it, moving to her chest and noting it had been pawed through. Perhaps the young pirate Captain Marc had threatened. She would take inventory later, but she dared not mention this to him. He'd cut the poor man's throat, she was decently sure!

After brief consideration she chose a dress in a luxurious purple lilac color, one of her simpler gowns. The satin underskirt was a darker shade of purple, the lilac overskirt a flowey, erethreal thing, the bodice matching and with silver threads woven through it. She laid it on the bed and changed her stockings, keeping the shift on until the very last minute. She tied new garter ribbons at the top of each thigh, this time a purple color. She slipped the knife carefully into the ribbon. It was a silly thing, this knife-but it made her feel better.

If only princesses were permitted swords...

She ate a very small bit of the food they had brought, mostly to be polite-then drew the dress on.

The scoop neck revealed a delicate collarbone and flawless soft skin, the barest hint of the swell of her youthful chest. She managed to get it on easily enough, taking care not to step or tear the skirts, matching purple slippers pulled onto her stocking'd feet. But...she could not fasten the back of it.

She was flexible enough to reach, her graceful fingers brushing her bare back with the frogs and laces that would hold the garment to her-but she could not fasten them together. The simple act of dressing-she could not manage with even the most simplest of dresses! How infantile-she'd always had help, she had not realized...

It wasn't terribly long into her dilemma when a knock came at the door. Her frustration turned to near panic, cheeks instantly aflame as the door opened.

"Don't!" She pleaded. "I am not decent!"

Which was silly. With her front facing the door, hand holding the collar to her skin, she was more decent than she had been in the shift. But her back was completely exposed, the rough edge of the table pressing into the small of it.

She blinked at him, face still aflame. "The...the frogs, I can't fasten them-" The poor thing looked nearly on the verge of tears.

 

[KingOfOregon]

The pirates could have spent a full two days stripping the merchant ship of things of value: the lines, seal, tools, sails, and so many other things would have been worth their time if only they had had the time. But dawn wasn't far off, and Marc didn't want to be tied up to another boat with his sails down when the sun came up once again. So after finishing with Catalina's personal possessions and the more valuable cargo, the crew concentrated on transferring the cannons, balls, powder kegs, and muskets.

Marc looked to the east and caught the first signs of the approaching sunrise. He ordered the men back to grab one final handful of loot before loosing the lines binding the craft to one another, then ordered Guido to get the Black Dawn underway.

Descending below and heading for his stateroom, Marc knocked on the door and received a quick, "Don't! I am not decent!"

Marc grimaced, then chuckled at his near error. In the 8 years that he'd been Captain of the Black Dawn, the only women who'd come to his cabin had done so to trade her services for his coin, and the word decent wasn't often spoken by that kind of woman.

"I just wanted you to know we're getting underway, m'lady," Marc said through the door. "If you need anything, the men will be outside."

She asked him inside after a moment, and while Marc expected to find her one again decent, instead what he found was Catalina standing in the middle of his stateroom clutching her loose dress to her bosom. He froze in place, staring. He'd already seen her in little more than a shift and stockings, yet seeing her like this, with her cloths loose about her body, seemed so much more, what, erotic?

Marc could see the despair in Catalina's face, her tears ready to spill over as she explained, "The...the frogs, I can't fasten them-"

"Frogs?" he asked, ignorant of women's fashion. He began with obvious confusion, "I don't know...?"

The only thing Marc knew about women's dresses was that he liked to see them laying on the bed next to their naked owner. He was expecting an verbal explanation, but after a moment a very hesitant Catalina turned enough for Marc to see the dangling laces at her back.

He didn't immediately move forward, even though he now understood that, without her servant, Catalina needed help getting dressed in such clothing. Marc was mesmerized by the young beauty. He'd seen a lot of beautiful woman in his life, but never like this young beauty.

"I can help, if you wish," Marc said with a soft voice. He waiting for her to indicate it was what she needed, then stepped slowly forward to begin pulling the laces tight. He asked as to whether they were too tight or not tight enough, then chuckled. "I have to admit. This is the first time I've helped a woman into her clothes, rather than out of them."

When he'd finished, Marc stepped back to give Catalina back her personal space, then ogled her conspicuously. The dress fit her closely, accentuating her generous, young, firm bosom and her hour glass shape. He couldn't help but show his appreciation for her erotic beauty with a deep sigh.

"You're a beautiful woman, Rose," he told her, using the name she'd given him earlier in the evening. "You're husband to be doesn't deserve you. I can say this with confidence, m'lady, because ... there isn't a man alive save for God himself who deserves an angel such as yourself."

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

Catalina hadn't wanted to call him in either, but she was on a ship full of men! There wasn't a woman aboard to help her, and for a moment-that was a very distressing realization.

He stared at her and she felt her face color, the start of humiliated tears threatening to spill over. His confusion was evident however, and after a moment she slowly turned to show him her dilemma.

Marc would be treated with a woman's toned back, her skin just as pale and smooth as it seemed to be everywhere else. As he stepped closer to help in response to her silent nod, he'd be able to see just how soft and flawless it really was. The slight dimple at the base of her spine...

He tied it off and Catalina felt much better, smoothing the airy over skirt and turning back to face him. "Thank you." She said softly, still rather embarrassed but glad to be properly clothed once more. The scoop neck of the dress showed off a pretty collar bone and just the hint of youthful swell to her chest.

She adjusted the sleeves absently about her slim wrists-then paused as he spoke, her eyes firm on the embroidered cloth. It brought more color to her face, a fetching blush across the bridge of her nose and tops of her cheekbones.

"...you are very kind, for a pirate." She finally said, her graceful fingers catching in her long golden hair, idly began to braid it. "But he is entitled, nonetheless..." A faint smile before her eyes drifted away again, then back.

"...I will make it home again, won't I?" There was an inkling of fear there, anxiety. He may be polite, but he was still a pirate, and this was still a kidnapping.

 

[KingOfOregon]

"Thank you," Catalina said as she blushed, "...you are very kind, for a pirate."

Marc smiled a bit wider and gave the young woman a slight bow of respect. It was true that he wasn't what most people imagined when they thought of a pirate captain. But then, most pirates weren't as blood thirsty as the stories told about them made them seem. Most pirates; there were, of course, some bad apples that made men such as Marc look very bad.

She spoke of her betrothed and whether or not he would give up the world for Catalina as Marc had said he himself would, saying, "But he is entitled, nonetheless..."

Her slight smile faded, though, when she asked with seriousness, "...I will make it home again, won't I?"

"I promise you, m'lady," Marc answered without hesitation, "you will be safe in my care, and you will get home soon. I do not mean you to be away from your family any longer than necessary."

A knock drew Marc to the door, and after speaking briefly to one of his pirates, he turned back to Catalina. "We are pulling away from the merchant ship, m'lady. I need to go topside. Please, get some sleep. I will leave a man outside should you need anything. After you've rested, ask and my man will bring you topside for some fresh air."

Marc gave Catalina another part nod, part bow gesture, then headed out and closed the door behind him. Topside, he found the two boats already separated by a hundred feet or so and the sails being raised. Within just minutes, the canvas was filled with air and the Black Dawn was once again cutting through the waters of the Mediterranean.

Behind them, after the captain had used a dull knife to cut free his own bindings and then get his men cut free, the sails of the merchant ship began rising. There were half a dozen miles between the two craft before the other ship was again moving. Marc wondered whether or not the other captain would try to chase down the Black Dawn and retrieve Catalina. But just as did Marc, the captain of the bigger, slower schooner knew that he couldn't catch the smaller, faster sloop.

The last the pirates saw of the other ship was its sails disappearing to the east. An hour later, Marc turned the Black Dawn west for a couple of dozen nautical miles, then turned it northwest.

Before sundown, they would arrive at their home, Cala de la mort, or Cove of Death. The small port was very appropriately named. To reach it, a vessel had to navigate through uncharted volcanic reefs known only to the dozen or so pirate captains who currently called the Cove home. Once through the maze, a ship had to pass between tall cliffs that were only 60 feet from one another, less than twice the width of such ships as the one the Black Dawn had just pillaged. If one of the local nations fed up with pirates did decide to assault the Cove with sloops or long boats, they would find themselves pounded by the two 8 inch and four 4 cannons atop the cliffs that were manned at all hours.

Cala de la mort had been a pirate port for more than 400 years, and in all that time it hadn't fallen only twice, once to the Black Death and a second time to hard financial times. But piracy always returned.

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

The girl studied him a moment, that anxiety still reflected in her stormy grey eyes-before she seemed to take him at his word, softening with a nod.

He bid her to get some rest, assured her someone was waiting just outside should she need anything, then left.

Catalina hesitated a moment, then moved to the door and opened it slightly. A man turned in mild surprise. "...mi'lady?"

"N-nothing, pardon." And she closed the door up again, a step back from it. She looked around the room, the quarters of a captain. The quarters of a -man-.

Well. She had certainly never been anywhere of the sort before, captain or not. Not wanting to snoop she restrained herself only to looking at what was spread upon his table. Nothing of much interest save a small map-she was tutored in a bit of geography, perhaps she could try to trace their route?

Delicately lifting the map she took it with her to the bed, sitting on it's edge before she eventually drew her slender legs up after her, indeed feeling a bit tired. When they had lost Philip, she had been very bothered. The man was newly assigned to her guard, but he had seemed nice enough. He hadn't deserved to die in such a fashion...though she supposed no one did.

By the time Marc would be returning his hostage had drifted off atop the blankets and linens, fringed lashes fanned against her cheekbones, face peaceful and at rest. The map lay to one side of her, an arm across her slender waist and the other tucked up beneath the pillow.

She looked as if she belonged in a painting, even in the unorthodox setting.

 

[KingOfOregon]

The pirate watching over Catalina was Dimitrios, one of Marc's Greek bodyguards. He was standing dutifully at the door of Marc's cabin, as opposed to finding a seat as many of the other pirates likely would have done. As with Guido, Marc had a respect for Dimi (and the man's brother, Leo) as he had for few other people. The pair would give their lives for Marc, which was the reason he had put them on the hostage's door.

"Has she asked for anything?" he inquired as he arrived at the door once more. Dimi, the quiet brother, only shook his head. Marc patted the man's shoulder, telling him, "Go get something to eat, then rest. It'll be midday soon, and I want you spry for our arrival at port tonight. Send your brother down at six bells."

He watched the Greek head off, knocked lightly on the door, then asked with a smile, recalling the last time he'd been at the door, "M'lady, are you decent?"

Marc got no answer, which told him Catalina was asleep. He was certain she would have responded with some form of surprised tone otherwise. He leaned a bit left and pulled aside a bundle of tightly wrapped line to reveal a peep hole that looked in on the cabin. And sure enough, she was sacked out on his bed.

He made a visit to the galley for a pot of hot water, got some more tasty morsels that his ship's cook was preparing from the merchant ship's larder, and returned to his cabin again. He again peeked inside, then entered quietly. He set the tray aside and poured two small metal cups full of wine from a pitcher.

(The wine was meant to hydrate not intoxicate, as it's alcohol content was very minimal. Clean, safe water was often a luxury aboard a ship traveling long distances, but the wine could be purchased and stored below decks for months. That had been particularly important as of late: the Black Dawn had left the Cove of Death ten days ago and the rain catchers, made of the same canvas as the sails and strung up to pour into barrels, hadn't seen use since they'd departed.)

Marc was about to leave his stateroom to give Catalina her privacy when she stirred and rolled his way. He froze, fearful she would wake and then freak out. She didn't, and Marc found himself once again entranced with her beauty. She was angelic, laying there with such a serene expression of calm on her face. Add to that the way her sleeping position and the pressing of one arm up against her rib cage very nearly pushed her young, ample bosom from the top of her dress, and Marc found it nearly impossible to take his eyes from her.

It was such a shame that he had to return her to her parents or betrothed, which ever offered the most for her safe return. You ARE going to return her, Marc reminded himself, imagining his lips pressing against the flawless skin of those breasts before taking in one of the pert nipples he'd noticed on their very first meeting. He smiled, asking himself, Aren't you?

She stirred again and, panicking, Marc turned away quickly. He moved to the tiny cast iron stove, again removing the lid to slip another small piece of wood inside. He was going to depart the cabin again without waking Catalina, but then accidentally dropped the heavy lid of the stove into place with a ringing thunk. Turning, he found her staring at him.

"Forgive me, m'lady," he said after she reacted to his unexpected presence. "I didn't mean to wake you. I brought you food and drink. I, um, have better, if you prefer. Wine, I mean."

He took a single step closer, continuing, "I wanted you to know that we are about six hours out from port. Making good time. Better winds. If you would like to get some fresh air..."

Marc gestured a sweeping arm toward the cabin's door, giving Catalina a polite smile.

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

Catalina looked a little sleepy but not alarmed, a slow look around the room as if she'd nearly forgotten her predicament. It was subtle, but her shoulders dropped a little as she exhaled, slowly shifting to sit up fully on the bed. "Oh. Thank you Sir...I mean, Marc. But Captain Marc on deck, of course." She smiled, having remembered his preferences.

It was a small smile, but it was a smile. An attempt not to be dour. She might be his prisoner, but she found no need to be unpleasant in response to his polite kindnesses. "Ah, no thank you. I drank stronger wine before-and in the morn had a very frightful headache."

She rose to stand, always so very graceful-a shake of the skirt of her dress so it fell into place properly. "That would be very generous of you." She would like to get some fresh air. She liked to look out at the choppy waters and endless horizon. She followed him out of the stateroom and to the stairs-her left hand caught up her skirts to step carefully, right tracing the wall.

Freedom.

Well, not really-but more than she'd had in the stateroom. She draws in a long breath and holds it, exhaling before issuing a notably happy sigh, her stormy grey eyes on the water. "Do you ever tire of sailing, Captain? Of rolling waters and beautiful views?"

She couldn't imagine he would. The air was so clean here and the view so beautiful.

 

[KingOfOregon]

"Tire of sailing, m'lady?" he asked with a tone that showed his surprise in such a question. He smiled and chuckled as he, too, scanned the never ending expanse of water. "Sailing, no. Salt pork and bad wine? Yes. Having cannon balls shot at my head from Spanish ships, and Italian ships, and French, and Genoan, Greek, Sicilian, Portuguese, Turk ... sometimes."

He looked to Catalina and laughed. "But sailing? No. Never."

A voice from the bow called out loudly, "Sail! Twelve points to port!"

Marc looked in the indicated direction, then looked to Guido, who was already hustling men into action. Over the following ten minutes, the sails were trimmed to increase the boat's speed and maneuverability and the gun on the port side were prepared for the possibility of battle. Marc ordered the Black Dawn to take chase, even though the odds that they would engage were still slim after having already taken such a prize the day before.

"I believe it is the Madelena, sir, Captain Rodriguez's boat," Guido reported after he'd returned from the bow. "Shall we intercept?"

"Yes, let's go visit our old friend," Marc said. After the First Mate ha spat out orders to the helm and those adjusting the sails and then hurried off, Marc explained, "Captain Rodriguez is a friend of the Black Dawn, m'lady. We will be exchanging goods with him, not cannon fire."

Marc called a pirate to his side and spoke to him in Tamazight, a form of Arabic that would one day become a dominant language amongst the Barbary Coast pirates of the North African coastline. After the man hurried off, Marc gestured Catalina to the stern of the ship, aft of the helmsman. There were wooden chests there with flat lids, and by the time Marc was inviting his hostage to take a seat on one, the Algerian had returned with a pillow for Catalina's sitting pleasure.

"Please, tell me more about this betrothed of yours, Rose," he asked, using the name she'd given him but which he was certain was false in nature. "Is he a wealthy man? Is he a kind man? I ask because I wish to know, no, need to know, is this the man with whom I should be negotiating your return? Or, perhaps your father? He was, what, a Count? A Duke? My concern, of course, is your safe return, to which end you and I should be working for a speedy reunification with your loved ones."

Loved ones, Marc thought to himself. He knew how arranged marriages worked, and he had a suspicion that this betrothed was not a man for whom Catalina had love. Marc suspected (wrongly, as it would turn out) that the two had never met. (Paulo de' Malatestis had in fact met Catalina, though that meeting had been little more than the new Noble greeting her in the Spanish Court, complimenting her on her beauty, and being hustled away to make room for the next Noble to do the same. Paulo had even managed to get a quick dance with Catalina, though that dance had involved 12 men and 12 women constantly exchanging partners and places over a time span of less than 5 minutes, and the only conversation between the two had been M'Grace from Paulo to Catalina and M'lord from her to him.)

Still, not knowing who this betrothed was or what the true relationship was, Marc had no way of knowing what kind of ransom he might get out of the Spanish beauty. All he could do was get the ball rolling on negotiations and see who was willing to part with what for the girl's safe return.

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

The orders to the men were of great interest to the princess-her intelligent eyes studied their movements and the effects of them, curious in a way another woman might not have been.

And then a little anxious until he called the other captain a friend. Catalina relaxed-no cannonfire today. His exchange with the pirate was also watched in interest-just how many languages did this pirate captain speak? She had been tutored in several, grown up speaking Spanish and French-but so far she's witnessed him using several foreign tongues, and with ease.

Folding her hands daintily in her lap Catalina settled on the pillow, her pink lips pursing slightly as he brought up her betrothed, thoughtful-but also lacking any expression of love or fondness. "

"My concern, of course, is your safe return, to which end you and I should be working for a speedy reunification with your loved ones."

"If my father will pay a higher sum, send me home to him. If the Duke I am to marry offers more, take him up on it. Either way...that is where I will end up."

Something of a wry smile curves her lips, morbid humor. "My sister's marriages bought alliances...I was traded away merely as a political favor. Still, I suppose it is good- I am 'old' for marriage. My mother held onto me for as long as she could, I think. She is my father's second wife. I am her only child."

That's where she would like to go, but it couldn't be. It was very tiring to be royalty. Catalina lifted her fingers to her hair, braiding it over her shoulder. An absent habit. "I do not know much of the Duke. To be fair...I do not really know my father, either but at least I have see him more than the one time."

She thought about the King and his temper, and she worried at her lower lip a moment. "He will not be pleased with you absconding with his property. The...the riches might be more, but there is also more risk in negotiating with him. I...would not like blood spilled on my account, should he dispense with negotiations altogether."

 

[KingOfOregon]

Marc listened to Catalina's response about her betrothed and her father both, then watched with interest as she began braiding her hair. His eyes followed her fingers for a moment, then took in her neck, her collar bone, her cheeks, her lips, her bosom. He wanted more than just his gaze to be upon those body parts but had to remind himself that his payday required that he kept his distance from her.

She said about her father's attempts to get her back by force rather than payment, "I...would not like blood spilled on my account, should he dispense with negotiations altogether."

"He will not," Marc responded quickly. "The Duke might be foolish enough to do something as fool hearty as send a ship, but I don't imagine your father would do something like that. To risk a daughter, particularly one so beautiful, to retain a box of gold and silver? No. I can not believe this."

Guido interrupted the pair with a request for Marc to join him at the bow. The Captain asked one of his Greeks (who had been watching over Marc and Catalina without looking as though he was) to keep the guest company and get her any food or drink she might need.

"The Madelena had changed course to meet us," Marc told Catalina when he returned to her ten minutes later. "I am afraid that you will have to return to my stateroom, m'lady. I can't have Captain Rodriguez knowing that I have a woman on board."

Marc laughed, adding, "Unless you want to don some sailor's clothing and pretend you are a pirate, I mean. Guido! Please take our guest below and see that she is comfortable once again."

 

[KingOfOregon]

Guido gestured to one of Marc's Greeks, who helped Catalina down the steps below deck and aft to the Captain's cabin again. He couldn't help but chuckle to himself, imagining the elegantly dressed Noble woman dressed instead in a fat armed smock and breeches.

Marc turned his attention to the approaching boat. The Madelena and Black Dawn came slowly together, the two crews tying the sails up and the hulls to one another. Despite Rodriguez being a Captain for the Castilian Crown based on Northern Spain's Bay of Biscay shoreline and Marc being an Ibizan pirate working the shipping lines of the Western Mediterranean, the two had become trusting business associates when they found they had something specific in common: a yearning for easy money.

The two captains chatted amiably over a shared flagon of rum, then negotiated a trade. Except for the weapons, powder, and cannon balls, the Black Dawn's crew transferred most of the merchant ship's pillaged goods to the Madelena. Because the Black Dawn would be in port at Ibiza before sundown, Marc forwent the barrels of fresh food, clean water, and ale they crew would need for another week or more of pirating and took a bag of gold instead.

Two hours after tying their hulls together, the two ships parted and went their separate ways. Marc, Guido, and Carlos (the Black Dawn's Quartermaster) met in the latter's tiny cabin to calculate the split between the ship's treasury and the crew. The coin would be distributed once they got into Cala de la mort, with the larger portion of the crew that would be going a shore first being paid right away and the remaining pirates getting their coin later, just to ensure that they didn't jump ship too early, anxious to find some female company.

One of Marc's Greeks arrived at the cabin door, telling him, "The Lady's asking for you."

Guido laughed and made an inappropriate joke, to which the others laughed as well. He playfully mumbled a curse at the men and made his way aft to where the second Greek was dutifully watching the stateroom door. Marc knocked, got Catalina's permission to enter, and did so.

She wore an odd expression that Marc didn't immediately recognize. But by the time he'd crossed to stand near Catalina, he'd decided that maybe it was impatience or annoyance. Marc couldn't be certain: he simply didn't know her well enough to be certain.

"This is yours," he said, tossing a small purse onto the mattress. If Catalina opened it, she would find six pieces of silver and two of gold. "You are not a member of the Black Dawn's crew, but some of what we sold was yours. So. Your share."

Marc backed away a step, asking, "We will be in port in two hours. I have a home in Cala de la mort. You will be comfortable there while we await news of your ransom. Would you like me to leave, Rose, give you some privacy?"

 

[CurtailedAmbrosia]

(Please forgive the very unpolished nature of this post.)

They had not been docked long at all by Catalina's reckoning-one moment, the Captain was considering ALSO disembarking to his home, debating whether to leave her on board under guard or take her with him-and the next, an urgent message arrived, pirate ships were setting sail-and his first mate was ringing a bell and blaring on a horn. She had been hustled back to the statesroom and left alone once more.

Days drifted by slowly. She found her pencils and she sketched what she could see out the window, but her drawings just didn't have the same turbulence as the blue grey waters with their white crashing tips. Without prying into anything she looked at a few more maps, curious but mostly unfamiliar-and she wrote. Late at night when she was sure no one would interrupt, she slipped her journal from the bottom of her chest, the secret compartment that held a secret undiscovered by the rummaging pirate.

It was her secret, a dangerous secret. For while she never spoke ill of her father, exactly-some of her thoughts, however seemingly harmless, could have been construed as treasonous. So dangerous a secret was it that she tried to use it only sparingly-the pages few and months apart. But...she was anxious, and she was alone. She'd broken it out on the second day. It was an old friend.

Without Anna she felt terribly lonely, and then bad for feeling so lonely-her servant would have been hysterically upset the entire time had she been taken captive-that was the whole point in sparing her. Besides-she wasn't being mistreated. It was better they were leaving her alone. What really would she have had to talk about with pirates anyway?

Catalina turned her head slightly, eyes on the small pouch of coins on the table, right on top of that first, original map she had looked at from time to time. She was still puzzled over being given 'her portion' of the sale for her things-a woman being handed money. But...suppose she'd keep it, though for what she had no idea.

What little time she got to be on deck was filled with an odd sort of tension-she couldn't have known an Italian warship had been seen on the horizon, had pursued them for hours the day before. How could she have? No one seemed to be talking to her-just occasional glimpses of the horizon and the smell of salt in the air, and then this room.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

It was midday on the sixth day when a man burst from below decks looking a little wild, waving at the Captain frantically. "Is trouble, Cap'n!"

Sure enough-over the creaking of wood and crashing of water a commotion could be heard below decks, jeers and curses of a dozen or so male voices deeper yet -and the clear, higher pitched one of a woman.

"You lil' blue blooded bitch-GIVE ME THE SWORD."
"N-no! I'll use it, stay away from me!"
"You bit off more n' you can chew-"

In the cargo hold two figures were half surrounded by a crowd of men (men who should have been and might have been sleeping). One of them was Paulson, a burly, greasy haired pirate with a gold earring and a bad temper-and the other was the lithe bodied, beautiful young woman who'd given her name as Rose. She did not look like she was doing well.

Her dress-the simple one again-was torn where someone had tried to rip it off of her in a hurry, a jagged slit now exposing one of her shapely stocking'd legs to about mid thigh-a simple garter ribbon tied in a neat bow to hold the stocking up. Her opposite shoulder was also exposed, the collar of her dress likewise torn. She was clearly very frightened, panicked even-cornered and trapped, her stormy grey eyes were rooted Paulson-but she was also angry.

And, she was holding a sword. Tightly so in both hands, she held it slightly up and in front of her, feet spaced and firmly planted, her back to the wall-and while she had no idea what to do with it, she clearly meant to defend herself should anyone move for her. By comparison, Paulson had -no- sword-but held a small, laughably small paring knife meant to decorate a rich man's table rather than defend him. The small blade had seen violence-blood tinged the metal and the fine silver handle, flecks of it on the deck-and a dark red stain on the upper right thigh of his breeches where he'd been wounded with it.

He saw the captain first, being a good deal taller-and his eyes went wide. "Captain!" He blurted, a quick gesture to the knife he held. "She was uh, poking around down here, looking to escape- I merely tried to stop her and she attacked me! She CRAZY sir!"

"Liar!" The fragile looking blonde burst, still not taking her eyes off of him but looking a bit more outraged than afraid. Her bottom lip looked a little puffy and seemed to be bleeding, her golden hair was out of it's chaste braid and tumbled all down her shoulders, her dress was ruined and all ladylike composure had been abandoned, her delicate features wrought with injustice, fear, anger-and she looked glorious. She had always been beautiful, but with passion in her eyes, her voice...

"You're lying." And she stepped forward, raising that sword another two inches.

 

[KingOfOregon]

The Black Dawn had been heading east and was about to turn south toward Cala de la mort when one of the watches called, "Sail! Five points to port, Captain.

That didn't surprise Marc in the least: this close to their home port, they should have been seeing at least the Harbor Guard, one of the pirate ships that shared the duty of protecting the bay's entrance all hours of all days. But then he was surprised when the Watch added, "She flies the banner of Genoa, Captain!"

The Genoese were no friends of the pirates of Ibiza, who had been regularly raiding their ships and ransoming their passengers for a generation or more. Apparently now, though, the ships from the ports surrounding the Ligurian Sea had had enough, because over the next five minutes or so, another three war ships from the Republic of Genoa were sighted, in position to prevent any ship from reaching Cala de la mort without a fight.

"Helm, hard to starboard!" Marc called out after contemplating the situation. "Course, west by southwest!"

Marc could almost hear the groan from the men near him as they realized that they would not be drinking wine, eating pig, and fucking whores this evening. Taking on one Genoese warship was risky as they were well armed and their hulls could withstand the direct hits from the Black Dawn's smaller guns. Only damage to their sails and rigging or the sweeping of her decks with the crew-killing scatter guns could give the Black Dawn a chance at victory against one of the Genoese vessels, and without the element of surprise Marc and his crew would never get close enough to one of the ships to cause that kind of harm.

And things only got worse. Over the next days, the Black Dawn would run into one warship after another, those of the Spanish, the Portuguese, and of a variety of Italian city-states. They even ran into a Turkish warship as they sailed along the North African coastline, seeking a place (ANY place) to send a long boat ashore for fresh water, food, and alcohol.

Marc had tried to keep Catalina entertained, but the disappointment and tension spreading through the crew and the threat of conflict with naval ships kept his mind occupied. He took at least one meal a day with her in his quarters, and occasionally he cleared the top deck of all but his officers so that she could get some fresh air while stretching her legs without the leering of the increasingly horny and angry pirates disturbing her.

It was midday on the sixth day when the tension became just too much. At the alert from one of his men, Marc rushed below deck to find one of his men facing off with Catarina. They were both armed, Catarina with a sword and Paulson with a small knife with which Marc had no familiarity. He looked to Catarina for a moment, and (knowing that he hadn't left a knife out for the Lady to acquire) couldn't help wonder if perhaps she had been hiding it on her person all this time. He smiled a bit, wondering also if maybe he shouldn't take the pleasure of searching her person, just to ensure that there were no more sharp edged surprises awaiting him and his crew.

Catarina's current possession of the sword gave her a weapon advantage over Paulson and the knife. Even so, Marc could tell by the inexperienced way the Castilian woman was handling the larger weapon that if he was to allow the fight to continue, the pirate likely still had the edge.

"Captain!" Paulson blurted. "She was uh, poking around down here, looking to escape- I merely tried to stop her and she attacked me! She CRAZY sir!"

Marc didn't see any immediate reason to interfere as the confrontation seemed to be paused for his consideration. He studied Catarina a moment: it was obvious from the condition of her dress and the panic in her eyes that the pirate had attacked her. He laughed when he realized that the knife he was holding was one of his own dinner knives, and the blood and wound in the pirate's thigh only confirmed his thoughts about what had actually happened.

Stepping up behind Paulson as the pirate looked back to the dangerous woman, Marc whipped a dagger from his waist and sunk it into the man's upper back so deeply that it passed his ribs and sunk into his heart. Paulson's face filled with pain and fearful realization, and a moment later he fell to his knees, then to his face.

"Please forgive my man, m'lady," Marc said after removing his cap and bowing slightly to her. "I assure you, this will not happen again."

Marc looked meaningfully to his First Mate and Quartermaster, both of who had shown up in time to see the killing. They lifted Paulson by his shoulders and carried him to and up the ladder as Marc cleaned his blade and returned it to its scabbard. Marc ordered the entire crew topside.

"If you will please accompany me, Rose," he said, using the name he only used when it was just him and Catalina alone together. He offered a hand out, telling her, "You must be topside with me for the completion of Paulson's punishment."

Marc waggled a hand for the sword. Whether or not she was trained with it, he wasn't that keen on letting her retain the weapon.

 

[KingOfOregon]

(OOC: For anyone who might be following along, I deleted the portion that takes place topside. I don't think we are ready to go that far in the story yet.)