Legends of the Vengeance : The First Adventure (9781310742866) (11 page)

Why his father had decided not to tell the
men, Sebastian couldn’t comprehend. His father had sounded so
adamant. That made him more nervous than the impending voyage.

The door opened, but Sebastian did not turn.
Assuming it would be Jaime, he continued to stare out at the coast
of Spain as they passed the tip on their way to Gibraltar. He
jumped at his father’s voice.

“We did it. We got it buried. You need to
come so I can show you how to find it.”

Without turning, he asked, “Did the men
succeed as well?”

It was the wrong question. The moment he
said it, Sebastian realized that reminding his father of failure—
even if supposedly innocently—would make Nicolo withdraw. Proof of
it came with the single syllable answer. “No.”

“I am sorry.” What else could he say?

“Come.”

His shoulders drooped as he turned to
follow. “Where do we go now?”

“I’ll announce our destination later. You’ll
learn when the crew does.”

They wandered up on deck and down the
gangway to Nicolo’s cabin. It stood empty now. Maps lay spread out
on the table his father used as a desk. The top one showed the
routes from Spain to South America. “Are we going to try to capture
a Spanish ship going to America?”

“Yes.”

“It should be loaded with supplies.” He had
to keep talking— anything to get his father to open up to him. “I
guess since we had to leave Siracusa so quickly we need
something.”

“Yes.”

He stifled a sigh and tried again. He must
succeed—why, Sebastian couldn’t have said. “There isn’t anything
along the coast that we can get instead? I thought you didn’t like
going out into the Atlantic like that.”

“The ships from Cadiz will have what we
need.”

“I am sorry, Papa.”

Now his father looked at him— really saw
him. “Why?”

“If you had not had to look for me, we might
not have to go where you don’t want to go. It is my fault, isn’t
it?” Guilt struck his heart. The manipulation—childish and
selfish—but Sebastian had grown desperate for his father to confide
in him.

“Remember that we were leaving anyway. I was
recognized, son. In fact, you going ashore got us the beef and some
of the fruit and water. It probably helped,” he added
begrudgingly.

“Oh.” What else could he say?

“Look at this map of the islet. It is only a
few thousand feet from tip to tip.”

“Did you find trees? I didn’t see any.”

Nicolo shook his head. “No. Just bushes.
There are no landmarks, nothing to indicate where we could bury
something, so we improvised. It will not be easy to find the jars.
Taking more will make it even more awkward.”

“Taking more?”

His father nodded. “Yes. We will eventually
take more, I’m sure. Look here. Jaime stood here, and I stood here.
We walked together, with about this distance—” his father pointed
from the tip of his middle finger to his elbow, “in stride. We
measured it repeatedly until we were consistent.”

“So the jar is here?” Sebastian pointed to
the spot in the middle where a circle that looked like a rock
seemed out of place.

“Yes. There are many rocks and bushes around
like that. It isn’t so out of place when you are there. It will be
hard to find, but we left it unmarked—a little.”

“A little?”

“My kerchief is under the rock. It will rot
over time, but hopefully if you overturn all the rocks in the area,
you’ll find a scrap or two left. When we return, we’ll leave new
ones.”

He hesitated—nervous, but felt compelled to
ask. “Papa?”

“Yes?”

“Why is it so important? If you can’t tell
me what is in there now, can you tell me what will be?”

“Would it not be the same thing?”

As much as he protested, claiming that he
hated it, his father’s ruffling of his hair felt good—safe. “I
suppose. I just assumed that the packet was the secret.”

“It is—and more. I can tell you that what we
take later will help give you a good life someday. You will be a
wealthy man, Sebastian. You can do and be anything you want
someday.”

Sebastian looked at the map and the circle
that showed the location of this good fortune of his future. “Will
you be there?”

“Where?”

A lump formed in Sebastian’s throat before
he choked out, “Wherever I am, being whoever and whatever I want to
be?”

“If you want me there and I am still alive,
I will be there.”

He grinned. “Then it will be a very good
life.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A voice startled Sebastian as he entered his
cabin. In a falsetto that sounded nothing like him, Jaime chirped,
“‘…but I thought you didn’t like going out into the Atlantic
like that.’”

He flushed at the realization that Jaime had
listened just as he had—listened and known exactly how manipulative
and deceitful he’d been. “I—”

“Subtlety.” Sebastian waited for Jaime to
explain himself, but the older lad didn’t speak until he looked up
again. Jaime raised one eyebrow and added, “It would behoove you to
learn it.”

The Legend: Part Three

The night before they were to reach
Gibraltar, the wind calmed until there was barely a whiff of a
breeze. Knowing that they would need the oarsmen the next day as
they pushed through the straight, Nicolo and Eduardo agreed to drop
sail and float through the night. When he heard the news, Sebastian
raced to beg Jaime for more of the story.

Nearly every man on ship crowded on to the
deck, silent as they could be in order to hear Jaime. It wouldn’t
work. Those farthest from him would hear only pieces of the story,
but it gave them something to do and relaxed everyone after a day’s
work.

When he settled himself down, Jaime glanced
around him and waited for Sebastian to creep closer. Nicolo had
never shown much interest in his stories before, but he stood not
five feet away, his arms leaning against the rail, relaxed and
attentive. It had taken years to perfect this story and was the
first that he felt was truly his own. The others he’d told were
reworked ones he’d heard as a child, but this one was new—fresh. No
one outside a few select people had ever heard of the Legend of the
Family of Joseph ben Saolomon.

He backtracked, retelling the final bits
from his last session, ending with Joseph’s wild cackle before he
continued.

The large, long room boasted an enormous
table. Every chair had been filled, from the head where Joseph ben
Saolomon sat next to his beloved Rebekah, all the way to the foot
where the smallest grandchild dandled on Jacob’s knee. The lamb,
roasted to perfection—the vegetables plenty. Wine flowed freely—a
testimony of the goodness of God.

Joseph sat quietly at the table, listening
to the conversation of his family. The laughter, the joking and
teasing, it was important to him—to them. Only Jacob, seated at the
other end of the room, seemed to feel the coming changes. In the
flickering candlelight, his son nodded.

He stood. “My family, God is good to us. He
has prospered us far above what we could have dreamed.”

“
You are a shrewd businessman, Papa!” The
family echoed his youngest son’s compliment.

“
Thank you, David. You are a good son to
me.”

He waited, looking around the table, seeing
each of his children’s and grandchildren’s faces before he reached
into his pocket and pulled out a large packet. A servant girl
removed his plate, allowing him to open the packet on the table.
Heads leaned forward, craning to see what the important
announcement was.

A chain hung from his index finger, the star
engraved with the Shema dangling from it and sparkling in the
flickering candlelight. “I have gifts for my son Jacob and his
family. Jacob, please bring your children to me that I may bless
you all.”

Jacob stood and gestured for his wife,
Clara, to bring their daughters. He carried the baby, Joseph after
his grandfather, and led their son Simeon to where his father
stood, waiting to give the traditional blessing. They clustered
around the room, Jacob towering over his shorter father, and waited
with the rest of the family to hear what Joseph would say.

The necklace still hung from his fingers
when Jacob stood before him. Joseph draped the chain over his son’s
head and pronounced the familiar Shabbat blessing on him. Simeon
watched with eyes full of wonder as his grandfather blessed him and
his little brother. Even the baby seemed awed by the solemn moment
and did not jerk the chain around his neck. “…like Ephraim and
Menashe. May God bless you and watch over you. May God shine His
face…”

He turned to Clara, kissing her cheeks with
great emotion in his face and in his voice. Tears poured down her
cheeks as he placed the necklace over her head and pronounced the
blessing on her. Their daughters, Leah and Rose each received their
stars with eyes wide with awe at the scene before them. “…you like
Sarah, Rebekah, Rachel, and Leah. May God bless you and watch over
you…”

A few tears around the table made the
children look quickly first to their father and then their
grandfather. The answers did not come. Joseph and his Rebekah clung
to Jacob’s family, one after another, whispering words of comfort,
direction, and affirmation of their love and affection. Still, the
children did not understand.

At last, Jacob led his family back to their
seats. Tears in his eyes, he raised his glass and asked, “Will you
ask the Tefilat HaDerech?”

Gasps erupted around the room. Women turned
nervous and troubled eyes to their husbands, and children whimpered
as they saw their cousins at the end of the table falter in their
joy at receiving their gifts.

“
I will, my son. The Traveler’s Prayer—
May it be Your will,
L
ORD
,
our God and the God of our ancestors, that You lead us toward
peace, guide our footsteps toward peace, and make us reach our
desired destination for life, gladness, and peace. May You rescue
us from the hand of every foe, ambush along the way and from all
manner of punishments that assemble to come to earth. May You send
blessing in our handiwork, and grant us grace, kindness, and mercy
in Your eyes and in the eyes of all who see us. May You hear the
sound of our humble request because You are God Who hears prayer
requests. Blessed are You, Adonai, Who hears prayer.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The bitter cold of Dover bit into their
bones as Jacob ben Joseph and his family met Ingleby outside a
tavern near where the boat was supposed to be harbored. The man
spoke little, but led them to where the boat, a crare, waited to
carry them across. The rough water buffeted the little boat as it
bounced over the waves and the wind tore at their clothes and the
cart of belongings Jacob pulled with him, but at last, they boarded
the ship.

“
I have put you in a storeroom. Most of
the men will not be here for hours yet. We must get you down there
quickly.”

“
Is this a trade run?”

“
I thought it best to seem as normal as
possible,” the young man explained. “Your father seemed to prefer
all the secrecy I could provide. I had thought to make you French
nobles, but then…”

Jacob said nothing. He hurried his family
through the boat and into the storeroom reserved for them. Once
they settled into the tight quarters, Ingelby turned to leave
saying, “Try to keep the baby as quiet as possible. If we can get
you there without the crew knowing you are aboard, it would be
best.” Just as he began to shut the door behind him, the man added,
“Oh, and there are buckets in the corner.”

The family waited, huddled together for
warmth and comfort, until the crew returned and someone loosed the
boat from its moorings. Simeon, still curious about the buckets,
finally whispered, “Papa, why would we need buckets? I thought you
said it would only take two or three hours to cross.”

“
We must hope we don’t,” Jacob murmured
with little confidence.

They were not so blessed. Within the first
twenty minutes, Clara grew violently ill with the motion of the
boat. “I am sorry, Jacob. You know how even riding a horse
unsettles me. This is so much worse.”

One by one, the children succumbed to the
rocking of the boat until the stench in the little storeroom caused
as much sickness as the sea did. Even Jacob struggled to keep the
light supper he had eaten where it belonged.

Despite the rough waters, the clear, bright,
moonlit night allowed the sailors to make the journey safely.
Though an unpleasant thing to sail at night—easy to be blown off
course—even with the choppy water and the frigid air, they reached
France within hours and under cover of darkness.

Ingelby took a very long time to come
release them from the room. Simeon listened curiously as his father
complimented the man on his forethought and suggested that he do it
for “all of the crossings.”

Jacob and Ingleby, with Simeon’s help,
loaded their cart and things into a longboat and watched as Ingleby
rowed it out of the way and pulled another close for the family.
They lowered Clara first, the terrified woman fighting waves of
nausea with each jolt of the rope. One by one, the children
followed until Jacob climbed down after them. Jacob took one oar,
Clara the other. Simeon tried to man a third oar, while Rose and
Leah both shared the fourth. Their slow, awkward movements made for
a slow journey from ship to shore, but at last they arrived, weary
and Clara insisting she never wanted to see the sea again.

Ingelby waited on the shore for him, having
only had the cart to row across with the help of one of the crew.
Their belongings, the little that they had brought, had been piled
in it once more and Jacob stepped up to it, ready to grab the
handles. “Thank you, Mr. Ingelby.” He reached into his pocket and
pulled out a note. “Give this to my father when you are next in
town.”