The Forgiven Duke (A Forgotten Castles Novel) (22 page)

“You know our Alexandria.” He laughed again, feeling the desperate vibrations of it fill his chest.

They brought up a table and three chairs where Didacus indicated they should sit. “Oh, I could not sit, my lord. My excitement is too great. Ryan will sit and write it all down. Please allow me to pace about while I tell the story.”

Didacus frowned, touching the upward curl of his moustache, and then indicated with his hand and a bowed head that he should get on with it.

“It seems that Alexandria has foiled a whole British army. She came to Reykjavik over three weeks ago, spent some days in the town, and then took off into the high country to the north looking for more clues as to where her parents might have gone. The British soldiers have been here for weeks searching for her to no avail. There is talk she has slipped into a fissure of volcanic lava or disappeared in the Black Castles and caves thereabouts and disappeared forever. Or perhaps, some say, she boarded an unknown ship from a northern shore and headed to America where it is rumored her parents went next. America! Of course. Why did we not think of it before? A land of promise and possibility where anyone could hide anything without governmental hindrance.”

Gabriel walked to the table, leaned into Didacus’s face, and said in a low voice filled with the ringing tones of conviction and destiny, “What better place to hide the world’s most valuable manuscript than in the new Promised Land.” His voice lowered to a dramatic whisper. “Think of it. Protected by freedom.”

He held Didacus’s full attention for several seconds while the man digested the story, a story that Gabriel had just now made up. He must have done a decent job of it. Even Ryan appeared wide-eyed and believing.

Didacus said several lines, directing them to Ryan. When Gabriel reached for the page to read it, he winked at Ryan. “Tell Didacus of the kind innkeeper who made us the most wonderful fish stew.”

Ryan seemed a little confused, started to speak, stopped, and then started again, turning a convincing shade of red. Gabriel didn’t care what he said as long as he kept Didacus’s attention away from those stairs leading down to the hold. At any moment, if nothing had gone wrong, the three soldiers should appear at the top, moving quickly but casually toward the gangway—the signal to get off this ship.

Gabriel quickly scanned Didacus’s words.
You seem to have it all figured out, Your Grace, but why should I believe you? You could be hiding her in that town as we speak.

Gabriel looked up to see that Didacus had stood and wasn’t paying Ryan any attention, instead watching him for his reaction. “What good would it do me to deceive you? As I have told you, and you refuse to believe me, I have joined sides with King Ferdinand on this matter. The king wants what I want—for Lady Featherstone to be able to continue her search for her parents. Admittedly we want the same thing for different reasons, as I don’t believe in the importance of these mystical plans, but I do want Alexandria to find her parents—dead or alive—and put an end to her suffering. I will go to any lengths for her to know what’s happened to them. Even casting my lot with the Spanish. Do you doubt that?”

Didacus peered into his eyes over the table. He took a breath to speak and then his eyes flashed toward something behind him. Gabriel spun around to see El Gato coming up on deck, pushing one of his soldiers in front of him with a flintlock pistol to his back.

God help them. They’d been found out.

Before he could act, Ryan stood, took hold of the chair he’d been sitting on, and crashed it across Didacus’s head.
Good man!

Didacus fell to the deck but Gabriel didn’t have time to do anything with him. He could only hope Ryan would continue the fight if Didacus was still conscious and buy them a little time.

Lifting the pistol from under his coat, Gabriel swung it around to El Gato, rolled in a somersault across the deck toward them but to one side, and then knocked the man off his pudgy feet. Gabriel fired, wooden deck boards shattering and spraying splinters through the air.

El Gato fired back as he was flung to the deck, but his pistol only fired into the air. The British soldiers rushed toward him. “Hurry!” He read one man’s lips. Someone grasped him and hauled him upright.

“Give the signal!” Gabriel shouted.

Spanish soldiers rushed toward them from the back of the ship as one of his men lifted a small flag with the pirate skull and crossbones of the Jolly Roger. It had been an old treasure of Hans, and Gabriel had agreed that using it might confuse any survivors if word got back to King Ferdinand.

With a mighty heave he lunged toward the gangway with the rest of his men. “Wait! Ryan!” He turned back to see that Didacus was holding Ryan in front of him, a pistol to his head. Gabriel started to go back after him when one of the soldiers grasped his shoulders and spun him around to face him.

“There isn’t time. She’ll blow! She’ll blow any minute!” His face was streaked with sweat and black gunpowder.

“No!” Gabriel fought to go back but the man was too strong. In his weakened state he was pulled along toward the edge of the ship.

A sudden burning smell accompanied a great explosion, soundless balls of fire erupting from the hold. Black curling smoke filled the air as the first bombs went off.

Gabriel’s heart hammered in his chest, despair and tendrils of terror spiking through his body as he ran in earnest toward the gangway. The British soldiers around him flanked him, running alongside as fast as they could. They threw themselves over the railing as more blasts rocked the ship. Fire and burning wood exploded into the air, raining sparks and shrapnel and wood bits that could easily take a life. They plunged down the long gangway. Halfway down it, Gabriel felt it sway, crack, and give way, falling toward the cold Atlantic waters.

Gabriel clawed at midair as he fell, crashing into the water with a mighty gasp. So cold. The water took his breath away as he plunged under the surface. With every last sinew of strength he pushed himself up, cresting to the top of a wave with a deep inhale. Another wave crashed into him, sending him deep into the swirling waters. All silent, all dark, only the press of the water surrounding him and the press of his lungs starting to burn for air.

He opened his eyes and saw a few bubbles coming from his nose.

No!
This would not be the day he died. He was too close. He would find her. He would not give up.

With a burst of energy he kicked with his feet and pushed the water down with his arms. His lungs threatened to burst, wanting so badly to take a breath. He restrained the urge with more willpower than he had, with the grace of God. He kicked and swam and broke free, taking giant gulping breaths as the water pushed him to the shore.

Within minutes he was swept onto the rocky beach. He crawled out of the water’s greedy reach, so quiet he didn’t know if the battle still raged until he turned and saw the fiery ship, sinking with men running to the highest point of the deck.

They saw him and the other soldiers who had managed to struggle to shore and took aim. Pistol shots peppered the rock all around him, silent but deadly, turning the sand into little tufts like an invisible person had tiptoed by leaving telltale prints of death, telling him that despite the utter quiet of this battle scene, someone wanted him dead. He crawled up the shore, one of the soldiers coming to his side and helping him up.

They ran together, a soundless bloodbath of carnage behind them.

A soundless and terrified town in front of them.

God help us. Had it worked?

Chapter Twenty-Three

T
he sky lit up from behind Alex’s closed lids.

She tried to shake it away . . . a dream . . . She shook her head and covered her face with her pillow.

Boom! Crash!
Cracks of thunder and flashes of bright light and then utter darkness.

She jerked awake and sat upright with a gasp. “John?” She looked over toward the other made-up cot in the room. He leapt out of bed, his torso glowing in the light from the window, pulled on his shirt, and reached for her hand. “It sounds like the town is being attacked. Come on!”

They bolted from the blacksmith’s shop into the pale moonlight of the street, the sky lit up with streaking lines of fire, the sounds of bombs bursting with booming explosions.

Others from all around them were coming out of their houses and shops, streaming into the street and huddling in fearful groups. “What is it? What’s happening?” Alex clung to John’s side and looked up at his face, lighting white and then shadowed by explosion after earth-rocking explosion.

John leaned down toward her, his face tense and fearful. “I think we’re being attacked.” He shook his head. “I don’t know. We should hide you. This might be—”

“No.” The word came from someplace deep inside her. If she had caused any part of this, then she didn’t know how she would bear it. She’d only been following her heart’s cry to find her parents. How could such a noble goal come to this?

She took a step toward the shore and the burning, sinking ship.
Dear God, everything has gone so wrong. I stopped trusting You and listening to You when I took John’s offer of marriage. I knew it wasn’t right, but now I might have to marry him. How can we be married when we’ve done nothing but deceive each other? And now others are suffering because I’ve come here. What should I do?

She took several more steps. A sudden thought rushed through her whole being, a certainty that pounded with her heartbeat.

“He’s here.” She said it so softly that only she heard it. “My guardian. You kept coming, didn’t you? You’re here, aren’t you?” Tears trickled down her cheeks as she gazed at a shore on fire.

“Are you mad?” John grasped her and pulled her back. “Come back where you’ll be safe.”

She let him pull her back toward Svein’s shop but she kept mumbling, “It’s all my fault.”

“Alexandria!” She heard her name amidst the cries of the people.

She turned to see Ana standing a little ways down the street outside the open door of the inn. She waved Alexandria over to her.

Had it been only hours ago that they had slipped the letter under the door? Had she read it? Alex found no stomach for such a plan now. She hurried over to her, John right behind her.

“Come inside!” Ana’s hand shook as she grasped hold of Alex and pulled her inside the inn. John stayed just outside the door talking to Hans.

Ana pulled her farther away from the men and whispered in quick staccato, “The duke has come for you. He was a prisoner of the Spanish but he escaped. He and the British soldiers devised a plan to destroy the Spanish ship.”

“The ship that is now on fire?”

“Yes, I haven’t seen anyone since they left here, but it looks as if their plan is working. They are fighting them now.”

“So it’s true. He came for me.”

Ana nodded. “I read your note, but so did Hans. He is not for such a plan and I confess I don’t understand. Why would you marry John if you don’t love him?”

Alex swallowed hard, her cheeks burning with shame. She looked away from Ana. “I–I may be with child.”

She said it so low but Ana heard. “I see.”

“I don’t think you do. It was a mistake, an accident. He, I think he forced me, in a way.”

Ana turned her face away. “Oh, dear. He seemed like such a good man. I can hardly believe it.”

“I know. He is a good man. He just felt desperate . . . to have me . . . and my fortune. But in his heart, I know he is a good man.”

“You have forgiven him then?”

“No . . . possibly . . . I don’t know! I hardly know how I feel. But I have not been forthright in my dealings with him either. We have both done things to regret.”

“If you can forgive him, then perhaps your marriage will be successful. Forgiveness is a cornerstone in any marriage, I think.”

“But there is one other thing and it breaks my heart, Ana.”

“What is it?” Ana took her hand and squeezed it.

“I think I was meant for another. I think I love another man.”

Ana’s brows drew together in the shared moment of heartbreak and then understanding dawned in her eyes. “The duke?”

Tears filled Alex’s eyes as she nodded. “We’ve ruined everything.”

Ana pulled her into her arms and patted her back. “We will pray and trust God. He will show you the way.”

“I am unworthy of God’s help.”

“We all fall short. We are all unworthy. Only Christ was worthy, you know this?”

“Yes.” Alex took a long breath and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I confess my sin and have prayed for forgiveness for taking charge of my own life, for a lying and deceitful heart, for wanting my will at any cost, for demanding my own way over trusting God’s way. And He has not forsaken me, Ana. I can feel His presence and His love for me, even when I went off the path and told John I would marry him.”

“He hears you and forgives you. He will help you find a way through this with John. Just continue to trust Him. Now, let us go back to the men and wait and see what happens.”

Alex stopped her with a hand on her arm. “You said the duke escaped and is now with the British soldiers?”

“He is leading them. He came up with the plan to destroy the men who were looking for you. He was very weak when I saw him. These Spaniards that are after you . . . they have done terrible things to him. But he was very strong in spirit when he spoke of you, of finding you and protecting you.”

“What if he is killed out there?” Alex whispered. “I could never forgive myself.”

“I do not think he will fail.”

“Thank you, Ana. For telling me this and being my friend. I think . . . I know what I have to do.”

BACK OUTSIDE ALEX SAW THAT
the Spanish ship was engulfed in flames and sinking under the waves of the harbor. There was no more cannon fire, just an occasional distant shout that could be heard from the shore. Alex stood by John’s side watching for Gabriel and the British soldiers to come back into town.

“Alex, come back to the blacksmith shop for a moment with me. I need to talk to you in private.”