The Immortal Bind

  A banging sound jolted Jacques back to consciousness, and he did not appreciate being reawakened into the warm, sticky night. The knock at his door was repeated before he found a shirt to throw on with his breeches.

  On his doorstep was an elderly scullery maid — he’d never seen her before. ‘The Navigateur is back,’ she whispered.

  Her statement stuck terror into his heart, and that she clearly knew this was disturbing news made him suspicious. ‘Are you sure it was that ship?’

  ‘It’s Blackheart for sure . . . he’s back for his prize.’

  ‘His prize?’ The implication made Jacques furious. Was this some sort of hoax? She could be trying to pump him for information about his charge. ‘Who are you, woman? How could you know about the pirate’s intentions?’

  ‘Is it not obvious who I am?’ She referred to her outfit. ‘As a scullery maid I am invisible, but not deaf.’

  ‘You were close by the day the captain visited Pornic,’ Jacques assumed, as she hadn’t been around the day he had discussed the issue with the baron.

  ‘There are unidentified persons trying to break the exterior barred doors that lead from the beach into the castle cellars, as we speak.’ She seemed annoyed by his delay. ‘So perhaps we could save your inquisition until after the crisis?’

  Jacques’ heart was beating in his throat, and his mind was still foggy from sleep. ‘Pirates are attacking the castle.’

  That hadn’t happened in living memory. If the old woman was telling the truth, he knew exactly what the pirates had come for. Why not wait until we were at sea tomorrow? He grabbed for his sword. They must not have got wind of the lord’s travel plans.

  Jacques thought to wake his stable hands, but they were even younger and less experienced than he was, and no match for hardened pirates. ‘The house will be locked . . . how do I get inside and raise the alarm?’ he asked himself as he returned to the door.

  The maid held up a key. ‘The back door?’ she suggested.

  Suddenly it didn’t matter who the woman was. He took the key, grateful for her foresight. ‘Thank you.’ He moved off.

  ‘Keep her safe this time,’ she said.

  ‘This time?’ He turned back wondering at her meaning.

  ‘What’s happening, monsieur?’ Rémi, his apprentice, came out of the shadows beyond where the old woman had been to waylay his departure, and there was no time to wonder where the scullery maid had gone.

  ‘Shhh!’ Jacques cautioned. ‘I suspect pirates are attacking the castle.’

  The lad gasped, but Jacques covered his mouth to smother the sound. ‘I want you to move quietly and alert the gatehouse guards, can you do that?’ The lad nodded and as soon as Jacques let him go, he took off.

  The pirates would have approached the castle from the sea side as the door to which the old woman referred was outside the castle walls and was used for loading goods directly down a tunnel from the bay. There were several bolted doors to get through into the cellar proper, and if he could beat the pirates inside, he could bolt the door that led from the cellar into the kitchen to delay them further and raise the alarm.

  * * *

  A clash of iron on stone woke Isabelle, followed by a scraping sound in her room! She sprang out of bed to witness a grappling hook locking onto the stone work beneath her window frame. Was this revolution? She ran to the window to attempt to remove the hook, but the rope was taut with counterweight, and she chanced a glance down to see a figure climbing the rope towards her. It was impossible to close the shutter with the grappling hook and rope in the way.

  ‘Knife!’ She could cut the rope — only she had no such item to hand at present. She had but two options, hide or flee — she chose the latter. As she ran for the door, someone began thumping on it and trying to get in. Isabelle gasped and halted to think.

  ‘Isabelle, it’s me.’

  She’d never been so relieved to hear Jacques’ voice, and rushed to unbolt the door.

  ‘I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.’

  The warning sent chills down her spine, as she turned to see the shadow of a figure sitting calmly on her window sill.

  ‘No one has to die,’ he said. ‘I just want you.’

  Isabelle slid the bolt aside and Jacques came barrelling into the room to stand before her.

  ‘I know who you are,’ Jacques told him. ‘You’re Blackheart, Captain Gaspard Lachance. Leave now before you are outlawed in this town.’

  ‘What?’ Lachance posed. ‘You are going to fight me?’ He laughed at this. ‘You’ve tried that before, and I have to tell you, it didn’t end well for you.’

  ‘You mistake me for someone else,’ Jacques insisted.

  ‘Such a pity you forget what you’ve learned between lives. But if you must learn not to cross me all over again then I’m all for that.’ Lachance stood as the sound of swords clashing erupted downstairs, and drew his own weapon from its scabbard.

  ‘Ah, that will be my crew.’ He was so very relaxed about the whole affair that it was unnerving.

  ‘The castle guards have been alerted to your presence here.’

  Jacques was just as confident they would prevail.

  ‘None of those men have seen combat.’ Lachance laughed. ‘Including you, horse boy.’ He taunted Jacques with his sword, but Jacques easily deflected the strikes that were meant to mock him.

  ‘I have seen a battle or two.’ The Baron de Brie entered the room to engage Lachance in Jacques’ stead, but no sooner had Isabelle breathed a sigh of relief, than the baron was knocked unconscious from behind.

  Her uncle fell to the floor as pirates flooded into the room.

  Jacques was backed into a dark corner with Isabelle behind him.

  ‘Now don’t be stupid, lad. I will kill him to get to you, Isabelle, is that what you want?’ Lachance held his rabble of a crew at bay.

  That was the last thing she wanted. ‘What have I ever done to you?’ She stepped out from behind Jacques.

  ‘Isabelle.’ Jacques shook his head to advise her against trying to reason with him.

  ‘What you are doing right now,’ Lachance replied. ‘You spurn me.’

  ‘Of course I do,’ Isabelle reasoned. ‘I don’t know you.’

  ‘You never bothered to try.’ His tone turned spiteful. ‘But we can remedy that.’ With a tick of his head, Jacques was overpowered and restrained by a large African man. Lachance grabbed hold of Isabelle and, to her horror, threw her on the bed.

  ‘No!’ She protested with all her might, struggling to sit back upright.

  ‘Oh, lie down.’ He slapped her hard across the face and she fell flat once more.

  The left side of her face was resounding with pain, and when she dared to touch the numb epicentre next to her nose, her fingers were covered in blood.

  ‘I’m not going to ravish you.’ He pulled out the bedclothes caught under the mattress and then tightly rolled her in them, restricting her movements and smothering her cries for help. ‘Plenty of time for that when we get home.’

  Isabelle was thrown over his shoulder and slapped on the behind. She couldn’t scream, she couldn’t move, and she didn’t even want to imagine what would happen once they got her to their ship.

  ‘Isabelle!’ Jacques called, defiant.

  ‘Kill him!’ she heard Lachance say, as she was carried away.

  ‘No!’ She wriggled around violently in protest, but that only served to get her behind slapped harder.

  ‘Never you mind about him, you’ll have plenty of male attention where you’re going.’

  Isabelle felt sick to her stomach, which was getting more and more bruised with every springy step Lachance took. It was agony to accept Jacques was being slain right at this moment and tears of remorse were streaming down her face. If only she had adhered to the old woman’s advice.

  * * *

  In the wake of his companions leaving, the African pirate restraining Jacques let him go. He carried a large scimitar, and although he was no
taller than Jacques, he had twice his body muscle. He stood opposing and moonlight through the window shed light on the brand ‘TF’ — travaux forcés — upon his arm.

  ‘If Lachance has enslaved you,’ Jacques proposed a bargain, ‘my lord would set you free.’ He pointed to the baron, unconscious on the floor. ‘Do you have a name?’

  ‘Chisomo.’

  Jacques had him talking, this was a good sign. ‘Please, Chisomo, help me save my baron’s niece.’

  ‘There is no saving her from Lachance, so long as she lives.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’ Jacques appealed. ‘He’s just a man.’

  ‘He is not . . . just a man,’ Chisomo emphasised. ‘He cannot be killed, and he has the evil eye, have you not heard?’

  Jacques thought that just a boozy legend. ‘Has anyone tried to kill him?’

  ‘Everyone has tried! He’ll happily allow you to stick a blade right through his heart if you wish it, right before he runs you through and heals himself good as new. I have seen it! Again and again.’

  ‘What if you chopped his head clean off?’ Jacques suggested.

  ‘Seen it done. It just flips straight back on. I’ve seen his head fully separated from its body and chatting happily.’

  ‘Surely not?’ Jacques was devastated.

  ‘It is all true . . . and then some.’

  ‘We have to get the Lady Isabelle away from him! What does he want with her?’

  ‘To appease the demon he carries, he has been stalking this woman through time. He claims he has waited two hundred years to take possession of her again; I don’t think he’ll be giving her up without a fight.’

  ‘Take possession of her?’ Jacques resented that implication with every fibre of his being. ‘I can’t just give up!’

  ‘You are going to die, lad, and so must she. That is the only way to keep her from him.’ The pirate backed up to conceal himself against the wall by the door.

  ‘Useless nigger, what’s taking so long—’ As one of his comrades entered, Chisomo sliced his head clean off. Jacques was stunned speechless.

  ‘There . . .’ said Chisomo, admiring the blood on his sword. ‘Now it appears I have killed you. Grab his cloak and let’s go.’ He pointed to the headless pirate and then headed for the grappling hook and rope still hanging from the window.

  Jacques retrieved the bloodied cloak and tied it on as Chisomo turned to begin his descent down the rope. ‘Why would you help me?’

  ‘This girl means more to the captain than any treasure or bounty. To thwart his wish is my only means to make his black heart suffer before I die. I will not live as a demon’s bitch.’ He and Jacques slid quickly down the rope and into the shadows below.

  In the dark, and disguised by the dead pirate’s hooded cloak, Jacques slipped into a seat on the pirates’ dinghy, next to Chisomo.

  Up front, Lachance had the bundle that was Isabelle thrown over his knees, and was slapping her behind to keep the rhythm for his rowing crew. She would squeal and wriggle around in protest every time and, as the pirates were greatly amused by her distress, Lachance persisted in humiliating and taunting her all the way back to the galleon.

  * * *

  When Isabelle was unfurled, she found herself on a bed and grabbed at the bedcovers being torn away from her, painfully aware that she was dressed only in her nightgown.

  ‘What a prize, hey, Black?’ Lachance screwed up the bedclothes and tossed them aside, observing her like an exotic pet.

  ‘If you say so, Captain.’ The African retreated towards the door of the captain’s quarters.

  At least Isabelle guessed these were the captain’s quarters, as it was a large private room, filled with luxuries, with windows that faced out to the stern of the galleon, and doors leading onto a balcony.

  ‘You don’t think she’s beautiful?’ Lachance kept his slave engaged and present.

  ‘Very beautiful.’

  ‘Convent educated,’ Lachance boasted. ‘She’s never known a man’s touch.’

  Isabelle was looking past the captain at his slave, who appeared unhappy about the situation — perhaps he was sympathetic to her plight. He had been the one holding Jacques, and he had blood on his clothes — had he killed him?

  ‘I’ll leave you to your sport, Captain.’

  Panic struck at Isabelle’s heart, she did not want to be left alone with this man. ‘No, please don’t leave—’

  Lachance laughed and hooked an arm around his slave’s neck to drag him back closer to Isabelle. ‘I do believe she fancies you. I think she fancies that you might be able to protect her from me. But what she doesn’t seem to understand is that, on this vessel, I am the only one protecting her from the likes of you! Still . . .’ He paused to consider and then smiled. ‘How fabulous would it be if the first child of Lady Isabelle de Brie is a black? I’m sold!’

  Isabelle stopped breathing a second.

  ‘You can break her in for me . . .’ Lachance shoved the young slave towards the bed. ‘I’ll watch.’

  Both Isabelle and the African were lost for words as the captain got himself comfortable.

  ‘Well, get on with it! My gift to you, Black, for serving me so well. She’s not wearing anything under that nightdress, so rip it off and get breeding.’ He poured himself a glass of wine.

  Isabelle looked to the African as he began to inch closer to her, an apology on his face. Isabelle withdrew across the bed and stood to address Lachance.

  ‘You are repugnant. Do you not even have the guts to do your dirty work yourself?’

  ‘Why should I get kicked and scratched breaking your spirit when my boy can do that?’ He was nonchalant. ‘I’m happy to wait until you’re as broken as a whore in the colonies. Spurn me again, and I’ll send another of my crew in to ravish you in my stead. By the time my crew are done with you, you’ll be begging to be mine alone.’

  Not in her worst nightmare nor her darkest thoughts had Isabelle ever known anyone so filled with contempt; she was in the presence of true evil. ‘Why are you like this? Why is my approval so important to you?’

  ‘It’s not your approval I seek, but your torment!’

  He stood to approach her, when there was a knock on the door. ‘Oh Goddammit . . . what?’

  This was the first time Isabelle had seen Lachance lose his cool, and the shock from his roar reverberated right through her. Lachance turned to speak with his first mate, and Isabelle shrank away from him.

  ‘We have a stowaway on board, Captain.’

  ‘Well, kill him.’

  ‘He’s up the rigging with a large scimitar . . .’

  The captain’s gaze shifted to his slave.

  ‘Which he is using to cut all the ropes. We can’t get near him, and it’s a waste of gunpowder to try and shoot him down in the dark.’

  ‘I’ll come and take care of it.’ He dismissed his first mate, but Lachance’s gaze remained firmly fixed on his slave as he pulled his dagger. ‘Where is your weapon, Black?’ He beckoned his vassal closer with the blade.

  ‘My name is Chisomo.’ He stood defiantly before him. ‘I lost my weapon leaving the castle.’

  ‘Come here.’ Lachance was furious as Chisomo stood his ground, and he was forced to go to him. The captain gripped the back of the slave’s head in one hand, and held the tip of his dagger to his throat, staring into his eyes. ‘You will defile this girl, you will keep her alive, and you will see that she does not leave this room, understood?’

  ‘Yes, master,’ Chisomo concurred, as the tip of the knife nicked his throat enough to draw blood and he was thrown against a wall.

  ‘Feel free to start without me.’ Lachance cast his evil glare at Isabelle.

  Isabelle caught a brief glimpse of the captain’s eyes before lowering her own — his normally blue eyes were black empty pools, no white at all! She suppressed a gasp, and quietly shuddered — was this the evil eye? Was Lachance even human?

  He left the cabin and locked the door from the outside.
br />   Isabelle set her fearful gaze on Chisomo as he rushed towards her.

  * * *

  When Lachance came out onto the deck, the first mate directed his attention to the crow’s-nest of the main mast where Jacques had concealed himself.

  Jacques breathed a sigh of relief to see him. Now he had the captain’s attention he had to keep him occupied long enough for Chisomo to aid Isabelle to jump ship.

  He’d already cut the rope shrouds used to access the mainsail and the crow’s-nest, and they lay useless on the deck at the captain’s feet.

  ‘It’s you, isn’t it, horse boy?’ Lachance called. ‘You think you have an ally in that nigger? Then why is he in my cabin sowing his seed in your little whore?’

  Jacques knew Lachance was just trying to bait him into betraying Chisomo, but he wasn’t going to do it.

  ‘You don’t believe me?’ the captain assumed. ‘Have you not heard of the evil my eyes can incite in a man? I can assure you that your bitch is going to have some black bread baking in her oven.’

  The laughter of the crew and the mental images the claim implanted in Jacques’ mind made his blood boil, and he lashed out with his sword and sliced a gash in the top sail before him. ‘Let her go!’ Jacques demanded. ‘Or I’ll cut every piece of rope and fabric I can get to!’

  ‘You are supposed to be dead!’ Lachance was furious. ‘Make sure he doesn’t go anywhere,’ he uttered on the quiet to his first mate. ‘I’m going to kill that cursed black!’ He stormed back towards his cabin.

  * * *

  ‘We don’t have much time.’ Chisomo took hold of Isabelle and sat her down. ‘Scream like I’m attacking you.’

  ‘Ahhhhhhh! No! Please no!’

  ‘Good.’ Chisomo made some banging noises and slapped his own hand. ‘Silence, bitch!’