Thirty Part Four

Brutus paced the King's antechamber. His footsteps echoed sharply throughout the room as he nervously awaited an audience with the Monarch. What did the King want from him? Would he receive his pardon? The King had taken the Wench from Violet, what would he want from him? Brutus wondered if he would also be required to pay a penance for the pirating he had done. These thoughts and more ran through his head, as he came to a halt, standing in front of the wall of weapons. Brutus smiled slightly, as he noticed Violet's claymore had already been showcased behind the glass.

This brought to Brutus' mind the skirmishes that had involved the massive sword, not to mention, the one in which Violet had won it. The Scottish Laird had actually been impressed. Making a presentation of the piece when he had been beaten, he had declared Violet the better warrior. Brutus could imagine the Laird's surprise if he knew the sword now hung in the English castle. Smiling at the memory, Brutus recalled how the Scots had gone from ferocious fighters to humorously friendly upon being subdued.

Violet had taken the sword, honorably won, and had graciously accepted the praise of the Laird. Vi also lauded the Laird's skills, making a great show of how the Laird had almost taken the win himself. There had been much back patting and compliments bestowed between the crews once the fight had been fought and the victors declared.

Violet had liked the Scots so much, he had ended up not taking any of their cargo. The Bonny Lass had been safe from the crew of the Wench, and their pillaging, from that day forward. The crews had met one another again upon occasion, calling out greetings, seeing how one another and their families faired.

Brutus would miss those encounters upon the sea with the other sailors that he now called friends. He would also miss the opportunity to snatch as many children as he could from the wrong hands. He needed to figure out where he would go from here, and he had not a clue at the moment.

"Brutus Marks." The King's man called out from the door to the inner sanctum.

Brutus turned upon hearing his name. With purposeful strides, he nodded to the man at the door, then preceded him into the King's domain.

The King sat upon his throne as Brutus approached. Brutus bowed deeply, then awaited the King's pleasure.

The King eyed him pointedly up and down.

Brutus did not shy away from the piercing stare. He returned the gaze, assessing the Monarch just as closely.

"You have served Captain Petals and his endeavors for a good many years now, so I have been told." The King eyed Brutus' face, which seemed to hold honesty, and purpose, as he answered.

"I have, my Liege." Brutus nodded in the affirmative.

"Am I truly... Your Liege?" The King asked him.

"Aye, Sire." Brutus held firm in his loyalty to King and country.

"And yet you have served another all this time." The King observed.

"I made a choice when I was younger, Sire. I could not raise the funds to procure a commission, I would rather have served you, given that choice." Brutus remembered the hours he and Violet had spent, discussing their options and their futures.

They had been young and restless, wanting to sail the seas, to set out and see as much of the world as they could. Little did they know at the time where their decisions would land them.

They had done the best they could with the opportunities they had been given. Brutus was proud of the lengths they had gone to. He knew of no others who plied the sea, trying to save the innocent victims of evil men, or the hungry, hopeless ones upon the docks.

"It has come to my attention, Marks, upon speaking with your captain's wife, that your services are still needed."

Brutus's eyes lit up with much interest. "Sire?"

"You will need a ship, I assume." The King waved a hand in the air as he spoke, "I happen to have acquired one of late." He raised the royal brow, as Brutus grinned widely. "No longer shall you sail as a pirate, Marks. A privateer for the Crown will be your new profession, if that pleases you."

The King cringed as he realized what he had just said.

He was quoting the blasted Pirate Petals now, he thought.

How very annoying.

Brutus' grin could not be contained, "I am deeply grateful, Sire!"

"Yes, well, someone needs to sail the Wench and keep an eye out for the unfortunate. Elizabeth said you are the man for the task." The King tapped his fingers upon the throne's armrest as he went on. "Your taxes now come to me, otherwise, carry on as before. I understand the need for your ruse, you shall use it to our advantage, and also to the advantage of my subjects that you help support."

Brutus could not believe his luck. To still be able to help the people at home was heartening, he could not wait to tell Sam they were back in business, and to see which of the men would still sail with him.

"Sire?" Brutus had a thought.

The King nodded.

"I have some funds set aside, I would make some modifications to the ship before sailing, if that is possible."

Brutus had listened with half an ear as Michaels had rambled on at odd times, saying how a few changes here and there could vastly improve the Wench's abilities.

"I have no issue with that, Marks. However, being it is my ship on loan now to you, send the receipts to me for payment. I will honor the improvements."

Brutus' jaw hung open for a second, he snapped it shut quickly, and then searched the Monarch's eyes.

The King was amused, it pleased him greatly to think upon how he would tell Elizabeth of Brutus's reactions to all of this. He could tell from the way Elizabeth spoke of Brutus, she cared for the man, and she respected him deeply.

"I can not be sure of the cost, Sire...... My carpenter will know better than I." Brutus admitted.

The King waved a hand, "Look into a supply of new guns if you need them, I would have my ship well protected."

Brutus' face held joy, and also a bit of disbelief, "Yes, Sire."

"That is all."

Brutus stared at the King a few seconds, "Thank you, my Liege. I am humbled and honored to be under your license." Brutus bowed, then half dazedly took his leave.

Upon reaching the outdoors, Brutus walked a few steps before it all sunk in. Letting out a joyful whoop, he pumped a fist toward the sky, before regaining his composure quickly, then walking as spryly as he could to the docks. He shook his head, grinning as a fool, thanking God for the opportunity the entire way.

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After their meal, the Duchess and Eleanor decided to walk in the garden. They had much to catch up on, there were many missing years yet to account for. Ellie shared stories of Will and Arianna during the time Kathleen had been gone. Eleanor also told Kathleen how furtive the Duke had been in his quest to find her.

Kathleen did not doubt it for a moment. She had felt the same during her many attempts to escape Bailey's island. Desperate for her family, she had risked Bailey's wrath repeatedly. Kathleen begged Ellie for more stories of the children, she had missed so much of their childhood and would hear anything that Eleanor had to share. The Duchess was extremely grateful to be home, to be able to catch up on the years lost to her, to be where she would not have to miss being close to her family any longer.

Encouraging Eleanor to sit beside her, Kathleen soaked in every word, while wishing the memories were her own.

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The Duke led Violet to his study. Gesturing towards a chair, William proceeded to sit behind his desk and write out a draft for his donation. Violet sat in the chair facing the desk, he looked to his side, out the large window that overlooked the garden. Vi could see the ladies from where he sat. They were conversing in the sunshine, seated upon a bench companionably, a sparkling fountain in front of them.

"I do not know how you managed, your grace. How did you keep your sanity all these years?" Vi could not imagine the mental turmoil that Kathleen's disappearance must have caused for the Duke.

William followed Violet's gaze, his thankfulness once again overwhelming him as his eyes lit upon his wife. "Prayer, Mister Petals, and much focusing on the search. If I had thought for even one moment I would not find her..." William had never allowed himself to do that, "Hope and prayer, Mister Petals, many years of hope and prayer!" The Duke's eyes shined with faith and gratefulness.

Violet nodded, aye, it would take much of both to be sure, "Could I impose upon you to call me Violet, or Vi, your Grace? I am unused to being called Mister." Violet grinned, "I have been called many things, but that is not one of them."

The Duke chuckled, "Such as captain? Or pirate?" Knowing Violet probably meant much worse monikers had been heaped on his head. The man was a pirate after all.

"Or worse," Violet laughed his answer. "I was called Pirate Petals by the King, however, I believe he derived great pleasure at my expense."

William knew the Monarch well enough, he could see the King toying with the man any way he could. "He has a different sense of humor, our King," William thought back to when the King had imprisoned the Earl of Trent, charging the Earl with kidnapping his own wife. The King had kept Trent in a cell for an entire week before granting him a chance to speak in his defense.

Violet agreed with the Duke, "I suppose, being King of an entire country, you would have a different sense of humor than most." Violet considered this for a moment, "As a matter of fact, I am still feeling the brunt of his humor at this very moment. I would be with my own wife, given the choice, your grace." Violet gave the Duke a 'what can you do?' shrug, as he made his admission. "Yet, I am here, and Elizabeth is there, with him." Violet glared his ire.

"As I see it," William handed Violet the bank draft he had just signed, "It has been extremely worth your while, Violet."

William grinned, as Violet read the draft.

Violet's eyes shot to the Duke's. "Your grace, I dare not travel with this upon my person, 'tis most generous indeed, yet....." Violet knew the recent brush with the she pirate was what seized upon his heart at the moment.

"You fear to travel?" It hit the Duke all at once, "Were you and Eleanor set upon also?" William sat back heavily in his chair. "The Duchess and I were waylaid by highwaymen on our own way here!"

"A bonny lass and her large guard of men?" Violet inquired.

"We did not see her face, but yes, it must be the very same. Around a dozen men?" William knew he should have notified the authorities, he just had not made the time yet.

"Yes, at least a dozen men." Violet narrowed his eyes, as he remembered the lass' audacity. No doubt she had been all the bolder having her small army of men standing behind her.

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Will left the road where the turf had been trampled by many hooves. He followed the tracks, through the forest, to the hills that lay behind. He could see upon the trail where the outlaws had been forced to ride single file, then the prints had spread out once again, as the terrain widened and allowed. Tracking the horses after the rain was not difficult, an hour later brought Will to the caverns where they must have spent the night.

They were long gone by now.

Will looked out over the landscape, seeing they had resumed traveling west, over rocky ground. If he pursued them further, he would lose their trail through the craggy terrain.

Will dismounted and investigated the caverns. He could see the riders had swept away their prints with brush, much of the ground was rock, however, and it had been unnecessary. He walked back out of the caves to where deep impressions marred the turf. At least a dozen horses had ridden in, and then back out.

He stared towards the landscape where they had gone once more, then turned back to his mount. He swung up into the saddle and cut across the land to return to the road.

Leaning forward, he gave the horse his head until they reached the lane, slowing as they hit the packed earth. Will hoped to sleep under his parent's roof this eve, so maintained a steady pace, holding the steed back slightly, so it would last the distance.

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Rebecca had shed her black, mourning dresses. She did wear darker colors, however, to show her respect, and her grief over losing her dear father. But also, knowing her father as she did, she knew he would have hated to see her wear black every day.

"Life is for the living, Rebecca, leave the dead to God." He had said occasionally to her.

Her father had not wanted a funeral, or services of any kind. "Just pray for my soul, as I know where I am going. I would not have you burdened with putting on a brave face, and all who know me, also know I am not a man of show and fanfare." He had said with humor.

Rebecca's father had been her hero, a hard working man who had given his children love, security, and a fine mother. Rebecca's mother had passed away years ago, even before Rebecca's brother had sailed to America and married. Once her older brother had sailed away, Rebecca's father was all Rebecca had been left with.

Her father had provided well for them. The home was payed for, there was money in the bank, and Rebecca now owned her father's investments. Few, yet profitable, the investments would add to her accounts, more than she would ever deplete them. She had what she needed to raise these boys herself, without having to go and work outside the home.

Rebecca and Timothy sat in the back porch swing, Pete sat upon the steps in front of them, as they three watched Paulie and Jonah investigating bugs in the garden.

"So Pete," Rebecca spoke softly, "Tell me about your ship, please, and what it is you men do that enables you to rescue children from pirates."

Pete turned sideways upon the step and gave Rebecca his full attention. He saw Timothy hide his grin, ducking his head and sniggering, being of no help at all.

"Well, Miss Farnsworth," Pete did not want her to think badly of him, yet he knew he could not lie to her, either.

"Rebecca, please." She smiled indulgently at the large, attractive man.

"Rebecca, then," Pete returned her smile, he then glared at Tim a moment before continuing, "We have spent many years cultivating a reputation and rapport with the pirates which enables us to trade them goods, or services, for the youngsters."

Timothy grinned at Pete, "He is a pirate, Aunt Rebecca, a good pirate who scares people senseless by threatening to slice their gullets open!"

Pete and Rebecca both looked at the boy in disbelief.

Timothy ducked his head, "That is what Davey said."

Pete glared at the boy, as Rebecca said, "Oh my...."

For some reason, this knowledge made Rebecca warm considerably.

Pete was a pirate himself?

Rebecca saw it in Pete's eyes, they shone with a sort of masculine pride, right alongside his ire at the boy's words.

"I shall have to hear more about this, Pete, as now, I am most curious of your adventures." Rebecca smirked saucily at the Viking she saw hiding in Pete's eyes.

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