The Curse of Blackbane - Chapter 4

A Visitor

Chapter 4

Several weeks later, inside his stinking cell, Blackbane added another roach to his small meal. With no money and nearly all of his silver buttons gone, the former captain of the Diano Marina could no longer bribe the guards. Instead, he resorted to capturing whatever crawled or scurried inside his six-by-six stone room. His daily existence composed of waking to hunger and thirst while hoping his weekly ration of stale bread and foul water would arrive. Days no longer meant anything to the condemned man except the vain hope that the executioner would come.

Otherwise, Blackbane sat on the dirty stone floor of a cell buried deep inside a fortress between the sea and the lagoon of Tunis. He tried to think of a way out of his prison. The prisoner also tried to avoid sleep. As promised by Remiel, sleep only brought the reoccurring visits from his ghosts.

The men of the Diano Marina found Blackbane wandering the beach that morning during their search. Their captain was on his knees in the sand, bitterly crying for revenge and vengeance as he stared up into the heavens. Blackbane shouted curses at God, barely making sense. He ranted about archangels and immortality as they forced him into the boat.

Hamidu was already waiting aboard the Diano Marina and ordered Blackbane thrown into chains for the return trip to Tunis. When the ships arrived in port, Hamidu sent Blackbane to the court of the Beylik of Tunis.

A fat man with a long white beard and a dozen wives, the Beylik controlled most of the tribes and cities in the area. Despite several years of successful raids that brought a fortune of gold, silver, and slaves to his lands, the ruler gave no sympathy to Blackbane. While he stood in chains before the ruler of Tunis, the Beylik condemned the former captain as an apostate. The Beylik decided Blackbane’s insanity came from many lies told about the whereabouts of the gold cross in the convent. Several crew members of Diano Marina went before the court to agree with Hamidu’s charges.

His mind still rattled from his experiences, Blackbane barely paid attention to the words. After the Beylik accepted Hamidu’s offer of two young nuns for his harem, the ruler sent the condemned captain away.

“Be grateful that you will die from the blade of an ax when I command it,” the Beyik told Blackbane with feigned sympathy. “To die behind the oar as a galley slave is not worthy of a fighter like you.”

“Peki, ya siz ya da Tanrı sonuçtan şaşıracaksınız! Gördüğüm laneti hissedebiliyor musun?” Blackbane gave the ruler an excited grin when he replied in the man’s language.

The outcome will surprise you or God! Can you feel the curse I know?

His hysterical laughing caused the Beyik and Hamidu to glance at each other. The looks sent Blackbane into another fit of mocking hilarity while the guards removed him from the building.

Blackbane rested his arms between the bars of his cell while he awaited his execution. Slowly, he believed in his madness. In a small way, he decided the ax would convince him of his immortality, once and for all. Then, he grew confident that everything he experienced inside the convent came from his lunacy. Even the scar on his neck was nothing but an illusion.

“Captain, I’ve caught a rat. I’ll be eating like the Beylik today,” Bingham’s voice interrupted Blackbane’s thoughts.

“You’re a lucky dog,” the man agreed gruffly in English as he shifted his uncomfortable stance.  

Using their native language made it next to impossible for the guards to eavesdrop on the conversations. Because of Bingham’s continued loyalty to Blackbane, the first mate ended up in the cell next to his captain.

Blackbane remained distracted as he focused on the idea of escape. The time inside the cell gave him plenty of time to think. He overheard news of war in the Baltic Sea from the guards, who relieved their boredom by spreading the latest rumors among themselves. To the pirate, the story was a godsend. Where there was war, there was an opportunity for treasure.

To hell with Remiel and his curse.

Over the days, the captain survived the maddening encounters with the phantoms of his victims. He made it through each night despite their ghastly haunting of him. Still, the lure of the sea called the captain. Blackbane needed to escape.

“I’ll get what I want, then I’ll tell both heaven and hell they can kiss my pratts,” he said. “That damned fat Turk will never get my head!”

Blackbane openly talked to himself since his capture. The first mate told him about the screams coming from the captain as he slept. Now, Blackbane felt the slightly crazed grin that went along with his madness. Even he was not sure if his actions were an act or his reality.

“I might help you keep your head,” a sultry voice spoke from behind the prisoner.

Whipping around, Blackbane found a woman standing inside his cell. Her luminous bluish face peeped from among the dark shadows in the corner of the small cell. Dressed in a long black robe, the woman pulled back her hood to reveal white hair, which dropped across her shoulders. Her thin face and expressive dark eyes held a stern expression, yet there appeared to be an underlying innocent sexiness to the woman.

“And who are you?”

Blackbane remembered the words of Remiel about demons. He glanced at the bars on his cell. They remained solid, and a chill filled him.

“You may call me Naamah,” she breathed. “I come to offer you a way out of your death.”

“Captain, who is over there?” Bingham’s voice came into the cell.

“Quiet!” the captain hissed before talking to his visitor.

“Naamah is not a name, I know. Yet, you crept into my cell. What is your purpose?”

Despite her attractive look, the woman’s underlying dark aura filled the room. She pouted at his question, but her eyes watched him like prey.

“I thought that was clear. You may escape with my help,” Naamah said as she silently stepped closer to him.

She sniffed the foul air.

“I smell your lust for me. It mixes with your fear.”

“I fear nothing, wench. You will learn the smell of my hate for those who come to me with lies. You are the first demon to come to me unless my shattered mind deceives me,” he said. “State your terms or leave me to find out whether I starve or lose my head.”

The pout crossed her face again. Still, she drew closer.

“I’m not really a demon, whatever you may think. I’m a lost soul like you, forced to bear the children of an archangel in an agreement. In a way, I’m condemned as you are.”

“Tis is a sad tale, I’m sure. But I trust wandering souls even less than demons at the moment.”

Blackbane tried to remain in control of the conversation. He suspected something sinister lay behind the woman’s demeanor.

“Yes, you enjoy what you see, but you correctly know there’s a need to be cautious,” Naamah replied with a mischievous sneer. “I have some ability to peer into your thoughts.”

“Woman, tell me who your master is? I feel another presence behind you.” Blackbane glanced over at the solid bars. He vainly hoped to see an escape path.

“I have no master,” she hissed.

Immediately, her behavior turned innocent again.

“I heard of your plight from Asmodeus. He told me of your immortality, but he believes Remiel has laid a trap. Now, he bides his time, for he doesn’t believe you will survive the ax,” she explained. “Should you survive the execution, then he will come and remove your soul. Asmodeus is most unpleasant when he discovers he is wrong.”

“Alright, that only tells me that Asmodeus must be your master,” Blackbane observed sourly. “You have something else in mind. Get to the point, woman!”

“I stand before you for my reasons. Now, do you want to escape or not?”

“What makes you think I won’t risk my head? Hell, I’m immortal. The damn ax will break,” he stated with certainty. “Like your master, you want something with my soul. Otherwise, you would not come to me.”

“I don’t care about your soul,” she told him with a sly smile.

She pulled him close with her arms wrapped around his waist. Despite his wariness, Blackbane could not pull away.

“I have a question for you. Does the great Blackbane risk death on someone’s word? Who is to say that Remiel was honest with you? Faith requires your complete submission to the will of God,” she reminded him.

“Be honest, Blackbane. Do you have such faith?”

She whispered as she leaned her face next to his neck. He felt her hot breath on his earlobe. The temptress brushed her hand along his back.

“I’m not afraid of an ax,” Blackbane declared. “Death takes me to hell. It is my path since I left Boston as a ship’s boy. I need a reason for you to help me.”

She smiled mysteriously. The clean air of a salty ocean breeze came to his nostrils.

“Death or life is your choice. With the right help, you can live until judgment day. Isn’t that what you seek? With me at your side, you can become like Samael,” she said. “In return, I only require your seed. Your offspring is what I seek. It is the same exchange that Samael gave me.”

Blackbane frowned. His ignorance about the stories inside the Bible left him curious about the truth. Then, he thought about stories of the djinn. The supernatural creatures were deceitful, offering hidden dangers.

“I don’t trust you. Your request seems too small of a price to pay for your help. You are hiding something from me,” he said.

“This is true,” she stated. “But my secrets remain with me. Now, you have little time to decide. It will be the ax or my offer. Otherwise, you can bargain with the executioner who comes for you.”

She grinned.

“I hear footsteps coming this way!”

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