Parno's Peril Page 11

  “Harrel!”

  “Sir,” there was an immediate reply.

  “Get Berry and have my horse saddled,” he ordered. “I need to go see someone.”

  “Right away, milord.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  -

  “Sails! Sails north by north-east!”

  Commodore Anthony David strode on to the command deck of the Ocoee as the call came down.

  “Report Mister Riddell,” he said crisply.

  “Sail tops to north by north-east, sir,” Riddell replied at once. “At least two ships, sir, but not close enough to identify as yet. Colors are indistinguishable at this distance.”

  “Very well,” David nodded. “Steer us an intercept course.”

  “Aye, sir,” Riddell snapped to and hurried to plot their course change. The winds were with them for once, moving from the southwest to the north east. If those ships were Chastain's then the wind would carry David's ships right at them.

  Perfect.

  -

  “Sails to southward!”

  “What?” Chastain was startled by the call. “Where!”

  “South by south-west and due south, sir!” Commander Hart replied, using the large deck glass to get a look at the ships. “At least three ships in view that I can see, sir. Can't make out colors, but... I'm pretty sure that's the Ocoee judging by her build.”

  “Come about!” Chastain ordered at once. “Signal the Snake and Dragon to come about in formation. Set full sail with the wind! We're at a disadvantage for engagement with the wind in our face!”

  “Sir, if those are our ships then we don't have to-”

  “Signal to come about, damn you!” Chastain screamed, shocking everyone on deck. Hart was so shocked he didn't even bother saluting, just moved to prepare the signals.

  Down below Major Robert Guilford was coming to a decision. He didn't know what the best course of action was, but he was leaning toward seizing the ship. From there he could order the signal sent to the rest of the small squadron to drop sail and heave to. For that to work he had to wait and see who this was following them.

  That did give him time to work, though. Time he decided to make good use of.

  -

  “They're running, sir,” Riddell reported. “Three ships in view from the lookouts. One cruiser and two frigates. They're coming about and putting on full sail.”

  “We're already at full sail and moving fast,” David spoke more to himself than anyone around him. “We'll cut the water better than the Halifax, too. Continue full sail and signal all ships to close in. Reduce spread to five hundred yards and stand by for engagement and boarding action.”

  “Think it will come to that, sir?” Riddell asked.

  “If they don't heave to when I order it, then yes.”

  -

  “Four ships now in view, sir,” someone called. “Two cruisers and two frigates. Flying Kingdom colors!” he sounded excited now.

  “Ships... all ships in view are hoisting the same signals sir; heave to and prepare to be boarded.” Hart lowered his glass and looked as Chastain. “Sir, what-”

  “Ignore it,” Chastain ordered brusquely. “Signal the others to do the same. Stay this course.”

  “Sir, those ships are flying an admiral's pennant,” Hart pointed out. “If we don't-”

  “Stay this course I said!” Chastain yelled. “Do I have to say everything twice!”

  -

  “They are not obeying signals, sir,” Riddell reported. “Continuing under full sail.”

  “Run them down, Mister Riddell,” David ordered calmly. “Lower the signals, add Admiral Semmes pennant to them and hoist them again.”

  “Aye sir.”

  -

  “Sir, the signals are being repeated this time with Admiral Semmes personal pennant,” Hart reported. “We have to-”

  “We have to do nothing!” Chastain spat back, eyes almost wild. “We don't answer to Semmes!”

  “Sir?” Hart looked incredulous, which was fair since that was how he felt.

  “I said cont-”

  “Seasnake and Seadragon are falling from formation sir!” a lookout called.

  “What?!” Chastain screamed. “Signal them to return to formation at once!”

  “They're ignoring signals, sir,” a pasty face lieutenant reported seconds later. “Falling astern of us, collecting sails.”

  “Fire a shot across their bows!” Chastain ordered. No one moved.

  “I said-”

  “You've said enough,” Major Guilford's voice cut through Chastain's screech. The irrational Commodore whirled to face the upstart Marine-

  To find himself facing three marines with pikes while others casually covered the sailors on deck with arbalests.

  “Commander, I suggest you drop sail and obey the signals being given us by Admiral Semmes,” Guilford said calmly.

  “Right,” Hart nodded firmly. “Drop sail!” he called. “Prepare to heave to! All personnel to topside and in formation! Double time!”

  Sailors ran from everywhere on the ship, pulling wind from sails and dropping the tension on them, pulling the sails in and allowing the Halifax to slow toward a full stop.

  “Commodore, allow me to show you the hospitality of the chains you offered me earlier, you traitorous sack of shit,” Guilford's voice was like frost.

  “I'll have you hung for this,” Chastain seethed even as two burly Marines took him by the arms and guided him toward the lower decks.

  “Then we’ll hang together, I'm sure,” Guilford nodded. “Get him out of my sight,” he ordered his men. As they took the deposed Commodore below decks, Guilford looked at Hart.

  “We'll probably be lucky not to be hung,” he said casually.

  “No shit.”

  -

  “Ships are heaving to, sir,” Riddell reported. “Frigates falling astern. Halifax slower in responding but they are now.”

  “Detail one of our frigates to each of theirs,” David ordered. “Order Warrior to take Halifax on the starboard, we'll take port. Close and grapple.”

  “Aye, sir!”

  -

  “Eastern Fleet arriving!” the Chief of the Halifax bellowed. “Render honors port!”

  The entire company of the Halifax snapped to attention, saluting crisply. David returned it only after a long pause, just long enough to show his displeasure. He turned to see a commander he didn't recognize.

  “Where is Commodore Chastain?” he asked quietly.

  “The Commodore is currently being held in the ship's brig, sir,” Hart replied, his voice calm.

  “Is that so?” David raised an eyebrow. Even as he spoke an entire company of Royal Marines were coming aboard and surrounding the crew and Marines of the Halifax.

  “I'm afraid the Commodore has suffered some kind of... something,” Hart actually shrugged. “He refused to obey your signals and then actually ordered a shot fired on our frigates when they did obey. At that point Major Guilford and I... relieved the Commodore of his command.”

  “Pity you didn't do that when he was committing treason, Commander,” David's voice was scathing.

  “We weren't aware he was committing treason sir,” Hart replied. “Even after we had our suspicions, we had no proof. As it is we've already committed an act that might be considered mutiny.”

  David said nothing else. Hart had a point. Naval hierarchy and discipline were rigid and inflexible. Chastain would have had the power and the right to execute anyone who refused to carry out any order not clearly illegal. In the face of a reported or suspected coup attempt, how does one decide what to follow?

  “Your men are all under arrest,” he told Hart finally. “All three of your ships will be crewed with prize crews and returned to Savannah where you will no doubt stand trial for your crimes. Speaking of which, where is Prince Therron?”

  -

  “Do you wish to stop for lunch, sir?” the Marine Lieutenant in charge of Therron's escort asked.


  “No,” Therron shook his head as he tried to get comfortable in his saddle. There had been no carriage available to him in Port Winton, leaving him no choice but to ride. While he had ridden often, he had never done so day following day. The back country trails they were following had never been maintained as well as even minor trade routes in the more central parts of the Kingdom. To say the going was rough was the height of understatement. He didn't know which hurt worse at the moment, his ass or his legs.

  “No, we'll eat in the saddle,” he ordered. “We have no time to waste, Lieutenant. Every minute we delay is a minute more that my brother has to secure his power base. We are in a race to prevent the ruin of the Kingdom. We must hurry.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  Securing horses and gear had not been difficult once they had made landfall. Therron had simply seized the horses and supplies he needed as an act of the Crown with no effort made at all to provide payment or recompense of any kind.

  This was their third day in the saddle, galloping for the Coastal city of Norfok. They pushed the poor-quality horses as hard as they dared, stopping to walk them only when necessity demanded it. They rode until the last dregs of light were gone from the sky and then made a rough camp, rising before dawn to be back in the saddle as soon as it was light enough to see. This was the fourth day of such travel so far and the wear was beginning to show on both man and beast.

  But Therron refused to slow. He had only a narrow window of opportunity here because of Chastain's refusal to kill the men of the Inspector General's command that had kept him prisoner. By now word of Therron's 'rescue' would have reached the Capital and his father would be moving heaven and earth to get him back or else kill him.

  Every second now was precious.

  -

  “All ships signaling ready to get under way, sir,” Riddell reported.

  “Very well,” David nodded. “Best speed to Savannah. Maintain formation.”

  Chastain was in chains beneath the command deck of the Ocoee and would remain there until they returned to Savannah. It wasn't lost on David that the strength of his command had just been increased by a third with the acquisition of Chastain's ships, but his mission had to be considered a failure. Prince Therron McLeod was loose in the interior of the Kingdom, and now on his way overland to the Coastal Capital of Norfok.

  There was no way to stop him now. Whatever he had planned, he would be able to accomplish it without further interruption. The Kingdom already at war, marred by scandal and murder of their Sovereign, by regicide and patricide no less, now faced yet another threat.

  Silently and only to himself, David wondered if Soulan would survive.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  -

  Tinker was not surprised when Parno McLeod appeared at the Hogshead Inn. He was not overly surprised that Jaelle had not returned. But the pensive look on the Prince's face made him worry something had happened to her.

  “Milord,” Tinker said as Berry took Parno's horse and led it toward the stables. Two of Parno's escort remained behind while others led their own mounts, but they maintained a respectful distance.

  “What brings you to see me today, and looking so... anxious?” Tinker asked. “Has anything happened to-”

  “No, she's fine,” Parno shook his head as he took a seat at a table on the far edge of the porch. Tinker sat down across from him. Seconds later Briel appeared as if by magic and set two beers before them before disappearing back inside.

  “You look like a man with trouble,” Tinker said after each man taken a pull from the glasses.

  “I should look like a man with nothing but trouble,” Parno corrected.

  “I am sorry for such misfortune, milord,” Tinker said sincerely. “I sense Jaelle has become one of those problems,” he said rather than asked.

  “Not in the way you mean,” Parno shook his head. “She's a wonderful girl and a joy to be around.”

  “But?” Tinker said when Parno offered nothing else.

  “It's not safe for her to be so close to me, Tinker,” Parno said softly and the older man nodded his understanding.

  “Only you would take that into consideration where such a beautiful and willing woman was concerned I think, milord,” Tinker raised his glass in salute.

  “Everyone keeps saying that,” Parno shook his head. “I told her she needed to come back here, and to stay away from me. Stay here with the people she considers family. Stay away from me so she doesn't become a target. I thought she had accepted that, but then an hour or so ago she all but begged me to let her stay.” He paused, looking at the older man carefully.

  “Tinker, it's not that I don't want her to stay,” he said finally. “It's just that...”

  “You care about her,” Tinker finished for him. “You care about her and now you are worried that because you do that she is in danger.”

  “Yes,” Parno nodded firmly. “I don't want her hurt, but I don't want to hurt her myself, either. And no matter how much I might wish it were different, anyone close to me is a target. That would especially include a woman close to me, and more especially a woman close to me in this camp.”

  “What do you want of me, my Prince?” Tinker asked him. “Do you want me to order her return?”

  “No,” Parno shook his head. “No, that would be just as bad. And it wouldn't be fair to you. But do you have any idea why she would think that beside me is where she is supposed to be? Why she would be almost frantic to stay there?”

  Tinker's face suddenly looked wooden, devoid of emotion.

  “Please tell me what she said exactly,” he said at last.

  “She said she didn't know why but she had to be near me,” Parno shrugged.

  “I asked you to tell me exactly what she said, milord,” Tinker told him. “I need to know exactly.”

  Startled by Tinker's sudden intensity, Parno struggled to recall the exact conversation.

  “She said she couldn't explain it, but that she knew... she knew that was where she belonged. Then she added it was where she must be.”

  Tinker finished his beer in one long, final drink, then stood.

  “I cannot help you,” he said abruptly. “I wish that I could,” he added softly. “Your needs are beyond what I am capable of, my Prince. You must choose what you do yourself. If I could help I gladly would, but I cannot. If you will excuse me, I must go as I have things to see to.”

  “Wha-, Tinker! Wait a minute, now!” Parno called, but Tinker had already disappeared back inside, leaving a stunned Parno alone on the porch.

  “Go and get Berry and the rest,” he told one of the guards. “We're going back.”

  -

  Inside, Tinker watched Parno leaving as he had arrived, at the head of his escort. A fine group, all hand-picked and trained to a razor's edge. Hard, loyal, unforgiving. Good men to face a storm with.

  “Jaelle, my sweet child,” he whispered. “Be sure. Be content. Be fulfilled. If not in this life, then surely in the next.” He said it almost like a prayer. Suddenly he was moving, burning pent up energy as quickly as he could.

  No one bothered him, having seen this in him on other rare occasions.

  -

  Parno returned to his headquarters to find a few reports waiting for his signature and he read them more to have something to do than because he cared what they said. He realized in a dim part of his mind that he was allowing his personal life and problems to intrude into his duties. But he didn't honestly know what to do about it. All he knew was that he was definitely going to have to do something.

  “Milord?” Harrel Sprigs' voice cut through his ruminations and he looked up.

  “You have a visitor, sir,” Sprigs said formally.

  “Who?”

  “Lady Stephanie, sir,” Sprigs was careful to keep his voice neutral once again.

  “See her in,” Parno sighed. He had told Edema to send her to him after all. He could hardly be upset that she was here now.

  This day just keeps gettin
g better, doesn't it?

  “Lady Stephanie milord,” Sprigs announced, holding the entrance open for her. As soon as she entered Sprigs disappeared, leaving the two looking at one another.

  “Well, sit down,” Parno said finally, pointing to an empty chair. “Can I get you anything?” he asked, trying to be polite.

  “No, thank you,” she shook her head as she sat down. Parno joined her, but behind his desk, not beside her. The two sat in silence for a moment.

  “I came to tell you I am sorry,” Stephanie finally almost blurted. “My words... my actions, the last night we saw each other were... ill-advised,” she settled for saying, fighting for a way to keep at least some pride.

  “Ill-advised, huh?” Parno fought to keep any disapproving tone from his voice, but 'ill-advised' wasn't much of an apology.

  “I was scared,” Stephanie kept going now that she had started. “I was afraid that you wouldn't come back. I let that cloud my judgment and... that led me to say things I didn't really mean in an effort to... to punish you for not doing what I wanted,” she admitted at last, rushing the last sentence out in one long, rambling and broken stream.

  “Punish me,” Parno repeated. It seemed as if he was weighing her words.

  “Hurt you,” she clarified. “I was hurt by your refusal and I... I wanted to strike back.”

  “It worked,” Parno nodded as he leaned back in his chair. Her face went red at the short come back but she kept her head up.

  “I would like to think we can still at least be civil to one another,” her voice was almost bitter.

  “I feel fairly confident I have at no time been anything other than civil, Doctor,” Parno replied evenly, using her title rather than her name, as she had done when addressing him. He could tell it stung her, but he was not going to give any ground until she got to the point.

  They simply looked at one another for what seemed to be a long time before she gave in and spoke again.

  “I have to know,” she said softly. “Parno, was there ever a time when you loved me? When you wanted, truly wanted to marry me?”

  “More than anything,” he broke eye contact at that, nodding as he looked down. “Looking forward to that time was what I used to keep me going,” he refused to lie. “When I didn't think I could go any further or take any more, when I was so deathly sick of this war, when I didn't think I could stand to send even one more man to his death, I remembered what I was doing it all for in the first place. What I was fighting for. I was fighting for a time when you and I could live in peace, together, and hopefully have a good life together. I prayed for it at night when I laid down. It was my one great hope. What kept me getting up each morning.” He stopped abruptly, looking up as if realizing he had said too much.