Raised By Wolves 2 - Matelots (42 page)

There was muttering throughout the crowd now, but it was not the ugly and dangerous snarling it had been a minute before. Pete arrived at the vanguard of men from the Queen; Pierrot was coming closer, and I heard Savant‘s voice calling for all to back down.

“Gaston?” I hissed.

I felt his head rise, and then the blond man before me recoiled, along with several others. Even Pete frowned at what he saw in Gaston’s eyes. I turned in my matelot’s arms to see what they did and found his gaze glittering with danger and hatred such as I had rarely seen from him. As my stomach already contained a cannon ball, and my heart already thudded such that it felt ready to burst, there was little else I could do other than cup Gaston’s chin and bring those horrible eyes to my own. His gaze softened when it met mine, and I felt as relieved as I had when his hand had crept into mine a minute ago. I had the reins.

He was nearly running wild, but I was in control.

“Stay with me, my love,” I breathed.

“Will…” It was more a pained moan than a word.

“I will get us out of here,” I promised.

He nodded mutely. His gaze stayed on me and calmed somewhat.

“Pete, Cudro, please, we must get out of this mob,” I said calmly in English. “The sea or land, it matters not.”

Cudro’s hand was on my shoulder, pushing me toward Pete. I went, hauling Gaston with me.

“Close your eyes,” I whispered to Gaston.

He did as I bade, and we were pulled into the wedge in the crowd that was the Virgin Queen’s crew, and thus ushered off of the beach and into the edge of the woods. Once there, I sank to the ground and pulled him with me. He crawled into my lap as best he could; and I ignored the entire world, and murmured soothing things and caressed his back and shoulders. In time he stopped trembling.

When I at last felt I could spare my attention elsewhere, I looked up and found the captains and their quartermasters speaking nearby in hushed tones. Striker felt my gaze and turned to me. His smile was reassuring. Beside him, Pierrot appeared relieved. Then I found myself under Savant’s scrutiny.

He approached and squatted a short distance away. His coming down to my level was polite, but I was not sure if the distance he chose to maintain was also borne of politeness or whether he thought it put him safely beyond my matelot’s reach.

“You can control him,” Savant said quietly.

“Most of the time,” I whispered.

“Some of my men were in that tavern,” he said.

I sighed. “He went in there unarmed and expecting to lose, as that is what he wished. If he had wanted them dead, many would be in their graves.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “I see that.” He sighed and smiled grimly.

“Doucette always was arrogant: thought he knew best for everyone.”

“Oui. Though,” I said carefully, “there was much between him and my matelot that is no one’s business but theirs. It should not be judged by a crowd of men who know nothing of it.”

“I’ll do what I can,” he said sincerely.

“Thank you. That is all we can ask,” I said. “We wish to rove. It is truly best that we rove, and that he spends the violence that plagues him against our enemies.”

“I know no man can guarantee another’s actions…” he said slowly.

“I can assure you I will do everything in my power to prevent him from spending himself against our allies,” I said.

This was apparently what he had sought, and he nodded with conviction. “I’ll let your friends know if I have any I can’t reason with.”

I thanked him, and he left us alone again. Only we were not so very alone. We had one another and that far outweighed all else that could be stacked against us. And we had our friends. And in all ways, we seemed to have the support and guidance of the Gods.

We continued to sit there after Savant left. Gaston was curled about me so that I could not see his face. I ran a tentative fingertip over his features and found his eyes tightly closed. That hand was then captured in one of his, as if he had snatched up a spider crawling across his skin.

“I am sorry,” I whispered. “I was trying to determine if you were awake or…”

“I am here.” His hushed tone was sad.

“I am proud of you. And… relieved. I felt fear there for a moment; and I prayed, properly after a fashion, perhaps. I do not know. I felt the Gods laughed at me: much like the matter with Dickey, all we needed had already been delivered unto us. You possessed the control and trust to hand me the reins, and we have our friends.”

He kissed my captured fingers. “I prayed, too,” he said huskily, “as you do. I told the Gods I would have the control, because I knew if I lashed out they would hurt you too. It was the only way I could protect you. And you did as you always do. You stood there and held the cart steady while I slipped and fell; but this time I clung to you and made you support even that.”

Concerned, I prodded him about until I could gaze down upon his face. He appeared angry and tired. His mask was smudged all about his eyes like bruises, and reminded me uncomfortably of what Doucette had done to him.

He put a finger to my lips before I could speak.

“You need not comfort me further,” he said with a rueful smile. “I have been… examining the cart. I have found it well constructed. Such that I know I can rely on it, as long as I do nothing to wreck it. I have also decided I am not evil; if I were, you would not love me so. I am merely… ungraceful. I slip on… everything. Rocky ground… blood…

battles, lust… And I shy at all manner of things: whips, loud noises, angry gazes… You are very sure-footed, though. You never fall.”

I felt he was granting himself some form of absolution in this, and I was very pleased to hear it, yet… I pulled his fingers away.

“I can fall,” I whispered, “Or rather, if melancholy grips me, I will want to lie down and not rise… for a time… I am not so prone to it with you in my life, though.”

He nodded. “I will stand and hold the cart when you cannot. We might not move for a time, though. Unlike you, I do not believe I can haul the cart and you. That too, will cause me to lose my footing.”

“As long as the cart does not roll away and smash somewhere at those times, I do not care if we move or not,” I said.

I saw the love I felt in his eyes.

“Thank you for saying that,” I whispered. “I needed to hear it. And, if I am the stolid member of the team, which is a thing I would have scarce believed of myself in any pairing a year ago…”

He chuckled. “When you teamed with those more sure-footed than yourself, without a cart.”

“Oui.” I chuckled. At Gaston’s curious frown, I said, “I can envision Alonso as a wolf, sitting in the traces before some ramshackle vehicle that would have rattled apart if we attempted to move it, as indeed it did. And he is holding the bridge of his snout in consternation with one paw. It is a thing he did when he was displeased with me.” I demonstrated Alonso’s gesture and expression and Gaston grinned.

“And I am standing there arguing with him, a centaur with a wolf pelt draped over my back, as if that will disguise me. And we argue about some matter such as our not being able to move until he appreciates the sunset.” I sighed.

Gaston shared my amusement, and then he caressed my cheek. “I no longer feel jealous of the Damn Spaniard.”

“Good,” I said. “We are a team, a well-matched team. And, as I was saying, if I am the stolid one, then you are the one who leads and sets our pace.”

Tears welled in his eyes and he clutched at me and looked away. “I am sorry. I am… It is as it always is when I am thus. Everything is so loud and bright, and I feel things so intensely.”

“You need not apologize,” I murmured. “You are still caught in the storm that overtook you in Port Royal, are you not?”

“Oui. If I concentrate on you, I am well, but it is as if we stand in a blizzard, pressed shoulder to shoulder. I do not feel I can walk for fear of falling again.”

I grinned. “I wish I could toss you in the cart and haul you along.”

He sighed. “I feel that is what occurred as we sailed here.”

“Do you wish to use the manacles again?” I asked carefully.

He shook his head. “I am reluctant.”

“Then what can I do to offer you comfort? You have done well, alone with me.” I chuckled. “I would say we have done very well indeed while alone.”

He gave a shuddering sigh, but he smiled. “Oui.”

“Should we slip away again? I feel we have won much this day, Savant at least. And though there was danger of it, they did not rip us apart like a pack of hounds. Let us take our things and go for a few days as we planned.”

“Oui,” he at last sighed with relief. His gaze met mine. “Let us hide away somewhere and make love. That is an intensity of emotion and sensation I will gladly feel again.”

My breath caught. “Thank the Gods,” I sighed happily.

He grinned.

We gathered our weapons and bags and went to find the others and tell them of our intentions. Gaston transferred his musket to his left hand, and his right stole into mine. I knew I would not be releasing it until we were well away from the sounds and sights of other men.

A cannon was being hoisted over the side of the Belle Mer, and I assumed she would be careened first. Up the beach, where the meadow intercepted the sand, men were working on boucan pits. A number of men had apparently left to hunt after the morning’s events, as there were fewer on the beach than before. Still, there were some men clumped about, not engaged in any useful activity.

We spied Striker and Pete talking with Cudro and some of the men from the Queen. I wondered where the rest of our cabal were.

Striker eyed us speculatively, and Pete and he came to meet us as we approached.

“Young Tom died,” Striker said quietly. “Dickey and the Bard would speak with you. The Bard feels you walk on water.”

“Well, assure him I do not,” I chided. “I do not even splash about on its surface.”

“Cudro wishes to start schooling men. Are you available?” Striker looked at Gaston curiously.

“Nay,” I said quickly. “Our time to… run about... was curtailed, and we have decided we are still in need of it.”

Striker did not appear to like that idea. “There are hunting parties all through the woods now.”

“Then we will stay on the beaches,” I said. “And avoid cattle.”

“Avoid Lookin’Like ACow,” Pete said.

“Can you not stay on the ship?” Striker asked quietly.

I looked to Gaston. He was looking at the sky, but his hand squeezed mine painfully.

“Nay,” I sighed. “We must take our chances in the wilds.”

“I would rather you didn’t,” Striker said.

“Is that an order?” I asked.

He snorted. “Could I give you one?”

I winced, and we immediately looked about to see if anyone else had witnessed that unfortunate exchange. I was damned if I would be seen as challenging Striker’s leadership. Thankfully, there were only the four of us. No one else seemed to be paying us much heed, or close enough to overhear if they were looking our way. As for us, Gaston was not pleased; Pete was not either. They were staring at the horizon as if it annoyed them. Striker’s gaze met mine again.

“You are captain,” I said quietly.

He swore as quietly and looked away.

“Though I would rather not test that on this matter,” I added.

He nodded with a snort of amusement. “Nor would I.” He met my gaze again. “You truly cannot?”

“We will be very careful,” I assured him. “Just for a few days.

Please.”

“Do not beg him for me,” Gaston spat, and then he addressed Striker earnestly. “I am not well. I am more of a threat to us, you included, here, now, than anyone else on this island will be a threat to us out there unless they are as many as they are on this beach. Out there, we take them if necessary. Here, there will just be trouble.”

“He Be Right,” Pete said quietly. “He Be No Good Here. Will Be Carin’

Fur’Im An Nothin’Else. We All Be Watchin’An Worryin’’Bout The Both O’’Em.

Then Ya Got The Frenchies Talkin’’Bout That. Let’Em Go.”

Striker swore and glared at Gaston and me. “I don’t want to lose either of you. I won’t forgive the damn bastards if something were to happen. And I don’t know what I would do then.”

I wanted to embrace him, but I had a musket in one hand and Gaston in the other. With a sigh, I thrust the musket at Pete, who thankfully had the good sense to take it. Then I embraced Striker with my free arm. He returned it.

“You are quite the mother hen,” I whispered. “And I love you as a brother for it.”

“I wouldn’t cluck so much if I didn’t have such unruly chicks,” he chided as he released me. “Now get out of here.”

“We will return in two days,” Gaston said.

Striker sighed. “Can you guarantee that you will be able to in two days?”

Gaston studied the ground. “If the storm gripping me now has not passed, Will can chain me to a tree when we return.”

“That Ain’tGonna Happen,” Pete said.

Striker met my gaze and we smiled.

“Nay, it’s not,” Striker said.

I shook my head. “We will return and let you know we are well, in two days at the latest.”

“I will hold you to that,” Striker said. “Now leave.”

Pete handed me my musket and embraced me warmly. He looked to do the same to Gaston and thought better of it.

We slipped away among the wind-blown trees along the shore. We made our way around the northern side of the island for a few hours, until Gaston at last found a cove sheltered by a little thrust of land. It was a lovely place. Due to the sand banks, there was a lagoon, and the water by the beach was quite tame and devoid of surf.

We had not heard the musket fire of hunters for a while. Still, we sat in the shadows of the trees in silence, and listened until the birds became accustomed to our presence, and the ones we had passed earlier had forgotten us and heralded no one else.

“Now what shall we do?” I teased when at last he seemed to relax.

He grinned. “I shall teach you to swim.”

I stood and eyed the clear waters of the lagoon with trepidation. I could see fish swimming about. “I do not suppose we could find a body of water with nothing living in it?”