The Curse of Blackbane - Chapter 18

Pirates run the entire world!

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A shorter chapter this week.

Chapter 18

The trip out of Amsterdam occurred as a bitter winter wind swept through the country. The trekschuit that Aldert hired for them proceeded slowly. A two-mule team walked the path next to the canal as the animals towed the barge. While their vessel carried a sail, the calm day forced the use of the mules. Aside from Marshall and Leiras, who rode as passengers, a mixed cargo of textiles and fabrics filled the boat’s middle.

Before they left, Aldert gave the travelers a bag of silver coins along with last-minute instructions. When Marshall counted out the coins, he realized the merchant took his cut of their money. He mentioned it to his partner.

“It’s expected. At least we have enough,” Leiras shrugged. “Our letter of introduction will provide us with a means to get in the door of most nobility, be they Spanish or French.” The monk smiled when he saw the captain shivering under his heavy wool cape.

“Too bad you won’t have the little servant girl with you on this trip.”

Marshall nodded.

“Aye, I’ll agree with that. She’s sweeter than the whores a pirate finds along the docks. By the way, what did you tell her?”

Leiras grinned.

“I left her with the fear that you’d tell Aldert about her attempt to steal the dagger. After I watched her staring at you from the window, I’m confident she’ll happily greet you when we return.”

“I’ll not stay there again,” the pirate grunted.

“Too bad you’ve just broken another heart. You don’t trust Aldert.”

“No, but, then again, I trust few people,” Marshall admitted. “I won’t return to places where demons might wait for me.”

“I can understand why.” The fat man pulled a leather bag and filled his pipe. “However, you appeared extremely interested in this venture.”

The pirate nodded.

“I saw it in one of my dreams.”

“Then you had a vision. We’re on the right path,” Leiras confidently stated.

Marshall looked at the gray sky.

“We’ll find out in a few days, according to the barge owner. This canal takes us to Medel, then we follow the Waal River. At least he speaks a little Anglais, as the natives call it.”

The monk chuckled at the statement.

“As long as we stay away from the nasty fends who hunt you, we’ll be fine. When we get to Ewijk, we’ll check on the Van Stepraedt family. I’ve found the roadhouses know a lot about local estates. Hopefully, our prize awaits us. From there, we’ll determine our next steps.”

“That sounds reasonable,” Marshall agreed as he hunched down in his coat.

It was late afternoon when they finally reached Ewijk. The desolate stop along the river appeared devoid of buildings. Only a single road crossed over the mule footpath and led away from the dock into the nearby flood plain. The barge owner directed the men to follow the path to the line of trees in the distance. After retrieving their bags, Marshall handed one to the monk.

“Cold and bleak,” the pirate commented. “I’ll bet your privates aren’t happy in this winter wind. I’m yearning for the heat of the desert right now.”

“Aye, that’s why I bought breeches for days like this,” he replied with a wink. His friend’s expression went grim.

“Now keep your wits about you, my pirate friend,” Leiras warned. The land remains in turmoil. The Dutch, the Hapsburgs, and the French all control different areas.

“I’m just an Englishman, remember? That part I can do well enough.” Marshall reminded him.

“It’s fortunate for you to act like a follower of Luther. Where we’re going, the Dutch Blue Guards remain to keep down the Catholics. We can’t have those soldiers believe we’re French. When we go south, we’ll need to worry about the Hapsburgs and the kingdom of France. To make it worse, the Prussian soldiers wear blue as well.”

“It’s easier to believe that no one’s our friend,” the pirate wrapped himself with his cape at a gust of icy wind.

“Why can’t these damn relics be in the desert?”