Disclaimer: "Pirates of the Caribbean" belong to Disney. Now on with the songs: "Por la tu puerta" and "I love unloved" are anonymous and not mine; "Climb not too high" belongs to Nathaniel Pattrick and "Ay que me rio de amor" belongs to Juan Hidalgo.
Rating: PG-13 this time. ONLY this time.
A/N: Ez Haim is the name of the oldest Jewish quarter of Thessaloniki, Greece.
I'd like to thank all my wonderful reviewers and readers most warmly; especially Mint Condition, ShadowsFalling and Alteng (your story is so sweet! I love your Pintel and Ragetti).
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III
I was right in my fears and hopes. My Captain cannot have an average woman for his lover. She is as clever as she is beautiful; I will always remember this little flick of alarm that showed in her eyes when they met mine. She felt I've acknowledged her power, but she has yet to understand why the hell I should.
"By God, Captain Barbossa," she says, her voice sparkling with mischief, but her look aware and cold, "my trust in you is unsheakable indeed. I've almost taken him for a girl in boy's clothes."
"Ah, and ye wouldn't be the first person to make that mistake, my lady," he answers with his light smile. "But a mistake it would be. Ritchie may look like a girl, but he can take a floggin' like a man."
I narrow my eyes. So you must assure her you're not soft to me; Captain, please, spare your fatigue. She can see the yesterday's bruise on my face and it doesn't count as an excuse to her; you can swear to Virgin Mary you didn't touch me, but lady Rose knows better, I've told her enough with that surrender in my look.
"Oh, but I am sure he is eager to obey whatever orders you give him," she says sending me a little sad smile.
What, does she pity me?
"I am doing my best, m'lady," I say innocently, lowering my eyes.
"I've always praised the Captain for his talents in finding the worthy," she says courtly, "he never ceases to surprise me. But you can rest from your duties now, whatever they are, as long as the Captain is a guest in my house." And she leans her hand on his shoulder.
Now there is a blow; I can't help but smile with admiration.
"Your kindness is well appreciated, m'lady," I say looking at the rosy hand on the silver-embroidered coat, and then I meet the Captain's eyes.
There is a clear warning in them: 'shut up, Ritchie, or it'll cost you dearly; you're not allowed to talk to her. Shut up NOW.'
I know the Captain is not afraid of lady Rose's jealousy, she doesn't seem to throw a fit about her man having some random fuck when he's far away. It's the sight of his lady having a poisonous little talk with said random fuck that irritates him so. I am not worthy even to look upon her, let alone to say veiled impertinences like that. Alright.
She doesn't want to pay more attention to me than it's necessary now - one quick glance at the Captain and she knows the further conversation is not welcome; and she frowns a little. She feels she can say and ask anything, it's just that I am not allowed to answer. But she is clever; she will wait.
So she leans on the Captain's arm and leads him into the house. Squall, who was bored to death during our little sparring, brisks up and elbows me to follow him. It's not his first time here, and he knows we should go to the kitchen with the old man who was waiting at the gate.
"What are we supposed to do in the kitchen?" I ask like an idiot.
"Are ye sick today or what, mate? We're goin' to get somethin' to eat. An' then we go back to La Aranha to bring presents for lady Rose."
"Only the two of us?"
"No, the Captain's goin' to be with us."
Uhm, it's not good news for me. The last thing I need now is to be with the Captain when his lady is not there. I'm going to earn some serious scolding.
"And then?"
"And then we stay here for the night. We're his attendants, don't ye remember? We're to stay where he stays."
Oh, well, great. I'm to stay downstairs like some poor servant, while he's playing with his lady upstairs? I'm to sit here with a pint of thin beer, while he will drink wine with his love on her damn perfumed bed? I didn't see him touch her now except for kissing her hand, and I can only guess how powerful, how full of genuine love his desire can be, if he is restraining himself like that. He is not going to haste, he will not throw himself upon her; I can almost see his big hands on her slender shoulders, his eyes, that in vain try to hide his enchantment with his lady's beauty, on her fair face, and finally his lips on her delicate skin right under the rosy ear. And I am to stay downstairs.
"Hey, Squall, mate," I say, "what about La Rosa Sin Espina? You know, the brothel. Are we bloody not allowed to go there?"
"We're to stay with the Captain," he answers, blinking.
"He has no heart," I murmur under my breath. "He can at least invite us to the party."
"W-what party, matey?"
"Never mind. Sweet Jesus," I say with a sigh.
We are given some nice, thick bean soup, and beer as well. The cook, a taciturn big man in his forties, is standing over us, watching us gloomily. Or should I said he is watching me? He knows Squall already, but I'm new here and he doesn't trust me at all. His stare is wandering from the silver spoon in my hand to my hat on the reed chair next to me, then to my face and to my hand again. I can tell he is suspicious of me, as is the lady Rose's maid, Betsy with a horse face, as is the old doorkeeper, as is a fellow in a dusty wig who was helping the Captain to undress. It seems all the servants here learned from their mistress to judge people, or it's an unseen genius of the place that tells all its inhabitants to be cautious and careful with new visitors... or do they simply feel that I don't belong here and I'm staying in this house against my will, and that I've brought anxiety and disturbance with me?...
The Captain is surprisingly silent through all the way back to La Aranha and I calm myself down a little. I wonder what they have been doing upstairs. I don't think they were so impatient as to satisfy themselves so fast. I'm experienced in that sort of things, I cannot feel this particular relief and tranquility that takes its hold upon a man who has just fulfilled his desire. It was a kiss, a little caress, nothing more. Maybe they discussed business. She is the Captain's informer, they have other things that bind them together, not only pleasures of flesh. Lady Rose is special to the Captain, she is his friend and companion as well as his lover.
And I am not his friend nor his companion, and although he is taking his pleasure from me, I am not his lover either. I can think of one word only, but I've heard it from him already and I don't want to repeat it myself.
We borrowed a mule from lady Rose's household, and I'm scratching it between the ears absent-mindedly all the way. I feel like this poor mule, lonely and obedient yet unnoticed, ah so deadly unnoticed. It's better to be killed by the Captain's hand that to be ignored like that.
But it's Squall who is to stay in the docks with the friendly mule, among busy people running to and fro with boxes, packages and bags; he sighs and crouches by the mule's side, preparing to wait for the Captain and me; we are to be back with the tribute to his golden-haired lady.
When we are in the Captain's cabin, I notice two solid chests placed proudly in the middle. I didn't sleep here at night and I didn't know the Captain was preparing himself so thoroughly. I cannot help but smile, and then something inside me gags my own common sense and cheerfully takes over.
"Um, Captain," I say, "begging your pardon, I don't think we can take these two chests with us."
He looks at me narrowing his eyes and I know already that it wasn't a good idea to try anything at all.
"Did I ask ye 'bout yer opinion?"
"No, Captain, but we should to spare the poor beast. It's not going to manage carrying those chests, really. I think they are starving it. I mean, the servants in lady Ros..."
"Shut up, or I'll make ye carry them yerself!" he shouts. Ah, he cannot stand the sound of her name in my mouth.
"Just wanted to help," I say sheepishly.
He laughs a short, cruel laugh.
"Nah, Ritchie, I don't think ye want to help. It's a nice day today an' we can end it nicely... or not. Keep yer advices to yerself. Ah, and if ye truly want to help, make some room in that chest."
He goes behind the screen, and I open the lid. Maybe these chests aren't that heavy after all. There are mainly textiles in this one. Silk, brocade, laces, delicate linen wrapped in a vague vanilla scent. There are dresses too, dresses that always are a promise of a woman, even if the owner is dead - because there is always a new queen somewhere who is going to take her regalia and to rule over the world of men.
I'm trying not to notice that some of these dresses are known to me. I am pleading dona Ursula to go back to the land of shadows, but I see her in these velvet blue folds: it was our first meeting, she had a black open-work fan and an azure mantilla, she looked at me from the carriage window and told me she liked me with one bold glance. She was accomplished in the art of talking only with her eyes and I was a willing accomplice, and this is why lady Rose understood me today so well.
Ah, lady Rose. Now she will be wearing my dona Ursula's clothes. I surprise myself: I am looking forward to seeing her in them. Will she not belong to me by this a little, after all?
But then the Captain goes back from behind the screen with a lute in his hands. No, it's not dona Ursula's lute; I cannot recognize it. It's not a big one - a delicate, almond shaped instrument with a devilishly carved rosette in the middle, a rosette that is almost living. The rosette, the Rose, all is for the Captain. I don't have anything here, not even myself; if anything belongs to me, it's only my guilty memories.
"What are ye doin', ye lazy devil? I've told ye to take those dresses out, not to sit there with 'em!"
Ah. I'm sitting with a bunch of dona Ursula's dresses in my arms.
"Aye, Captain," I say obediently, standing up. "But maybe we can wrap the lute in the dresses so that it's safe to transport."
"Maybe yer right." He looks at me amusingly as always. "Ye want me to get rid of these dresses?"
"I don't care for dresses," I say narrowing my eyes, "as long as you don't expect me to wear them. But now as you have found a better use for them, you may add the scarlet one to the collection as well."
He looks at me for a long while and I make a step back unwillingly, thinking that this time I've gone too far. But he just smiles and says simply:
"No, the scarlet dress stays here." And then he turns his back to me.
I feel as if he spat on me. Well, he doesn't want to be bothered, he's just ignoring me, because it's such a happy day he cannot even think about dealing with me. He's right, I'll shut up.
Some men from the crew carry the chests to the docks and help Squall and me to fasten them on the mule's back. I feel sleepy; the Captain's energetic steps, Squall's hopeful face, the sun shining on all these townfolks, busying with their loads somewhere or just sitting and eating, or looking at us lazily from the windows, all the general happiness only annoys me. I want to doze off in some dark corner and to find myself back on La Aranha when we will be again at sea.
Lady Rose's house is open and waiting for us. The doorkeeper is going to call the servants to help us with the chests, but the Captain stops him. He wants only Squall and me to do this task. Oh, so I'm just your servant just now, Captain? Are we, pirates, not equals, don't we call ourselves "brethren"? Am I to carry gifts for your lover, because you order me so?
Then it dawns upon me that I'm not a pirate yet, after all. I haven't killed a man, I haven't been in a battle. The pistol I carry so proudly has yet to be used. And yes, I am the Captain's servant: I bring him food and pour him wine, and clean his cabin - that's all my contribution to the general pirate cause. And the only reason why I shouldn't be used for carrying presents for lady Rose - that reason is valid only to me and is, well, highly unglorious.
Lady Rose thanks us very generously, with a charming little nod and smile. She is not looking at me, however, her eyes thank mainly Squall and not me. And I can see that Squall has something more in mind, he's watching lady Rose with such hope, almost with greed. She blushes and gives him a gold coin. Then she blushes even more and it's delightful to watch her little, perfectly shaped ears, because they are now red with embarrasment, when she finally turns to me and hands me over a gold coin too. Why is she so ashamed? Poor little beauty, you're in your house and in your rights, I think taking the coin from her. And it's a first time when our hands meet: her frail long fingers with pearly nails brush my dirty hand for a moment, and I smile; she touched me, there's a bond between us already.
She thanks the Captain with a deep curtsy, but her next gesture is surprisingly intimate and tender: she takes his hand and sighs, apologizing that she's a little bit worried, because her favourite cat is missing; it didn't come for breakfast and nobody knows where it can be. I'm ready to roll my eyes, when I hear that the cat is named "Tarry", because it's tar black and looks like a devil, and I look at lady Rose with sympathy again. I've never heard about black cat that could be allowed to rest on a beautiful lady's lap; black cat is considered to be a witch's companion, nothing less, nothing more. And ladies don't like cats in general - there are still lands where cats are burned as cursed beasts, devil's apprentices - one more stain on humanity's white Christian garment. I think about my living in Thessaloniki and in Istanbul, I recall fondness that Jews and Muslims have for cats, I remember furry little balls bathing in the sun on the mosque yards... then I suddenly remember an unhappy lot of dogs in those cat-friendly lands and I'm forced to sigh. Ah, human stupidity is eternal, it only changes its shape.
"I've promised my men a reward for finding my Tarry," says lady Rose, "but nobody knows where she's hiding. I hope she's not ill."
"Why should she be ill?" asks the Captain.
"Ah, because cats hide themselves when they're not feeling well. And if they are going to die, they hide so skilfully that nobody can find them." Lady Rose sighs. "Cats are noble animals, indeed, hiding their weakness and pain. We should learn from them, we're all too often carrying our ugly worries and misfortunes on our sleeves, as if proud of them. They are to be hidden, weakness is nothing to be proud of."
"How right you are, my lady Rose," the Captain says kissing her fingers again. "We all know some people who should have this truth beaten into their heads."
"I'm sure that Tarry is well, m'lady," I interrupt this unwanted moral lesson. "If she was with you yesterday, it means she's just gone somewhere. If she were ill, she would've disappeared yesterday evening."
The Captain rolls his eyes impatiently, but lady Rose is looking at me with hope.
"How do you know that?"
"I know how cats behave, m'lady," I say. "I'd bet she's just hunting outside to bring you a gift of dead little bird or mouse. All living creatures that hunt are known to bring their prey to their loved ones."
"Get out to the kitchen, you two," says the Captain giving me that warning look again. I bow hastily and take Squall with me.
Betsy with a horse face proves herself to be a generous woman with a certain fondness for young men, because she brings us beer and fish and nice bread, and we sit to have a cozy chat. The cook is avoiding us, hovewer, and he puts his nose high with an air of disapproval for Betsy. She doesn't pay attention to him and bows over the table to say that the cook has always hated poor little Tarry, accusing her of stealing bacon and cracklings.
"And you like Tarry, miss Betsy?" I ask her.
"Oh, I didn't like her at the beginning, she looked like a little demon! But our lady Rose loved her and then I liked her too. The creature was able to show she liked you, you know. Our lady was always laughing at that witch thing, she told us we're not to listen to that rubbish. There are people here who say she's a witch, mind you."
"A witch? Why?"
"Why, because she's too beautiful. And she doesn't want men to live in her house, she likes to be alone. There are so many young gentlemen who'd like to become her lovers. But she turns all the proposals down. Only God Almighty knows how much money I was given to carry letters and presents to our lady. Many young men hate her now, I believe." And Betsy draws even closer to me and places her big veinous hand on my knee. "I am afraid som'times, you know. We're not safe here. All townfolks being Protestants and we being Catholics."
"Is lady Rose a Catholic?"
"Sure she is. She is an Irish. And here, she doesn't even have a church to go to on Sunday. Your Captain is always worrying about her, but she wants to stay here, she likes Antigua, and that merchant of her can easily visit her here. But I'm afraid. It's not very safe place for us."
"Funny," I say looking in Betsy's blue eyes, "I'm a Catholic too."
"You are? Oh," she says smilling shyly.
"Not only me," I say looking at Squall. "Most of our crew are Catholics, right, Squall?"
He blinks and I kick him under the table, so he has to agree, but then he looks at me with dismay. I ignore him and ask Betsy coaxingly:
"Do you think we could search for little Tarry too, miss Betsy?"
"Where do you want to search for her, Ritchie?" she asks me, frowning.
"Wherever you'd trust us enough to allow the search," I say taking her hand lightly. "If you'd like to show us the garden, we can look for Tarry in the garden... and then share the reward."
"Oh," she says holding my hand with maidenly smile, "we can search the garden then, because I've looked through the whole house."
"I don't want to share the reward, mate," says Squall with a little flare in his eyes that were rather dull until now.
"Alright, you do with your reward what you please," I say standing up.
"I don't desire your reward either, Ritchie," says Betsy generously, but I can see that she desires something else.
"Good," I say.
We go down to the garden. Squall rushes to the completely opposite corner, and we start to look through the bushes. I cannot help but smile to myself at the rather poor condition of lady Rose's garden; it seems she is not very concerned about the appearances. Flowers and grass are growing alike in big clusters, and a little pond in the middle is almost invisible under the thick muddy-green cover. But I don't think that Tarry was so stupid as to drown in it. I suspect a cruel joke; if what Betsy said about townsfolk taking lady Rose for a witch, then the poor beast can be in danger too.
Betsy is looking through the grass rather clumsily, and her eyes go to me all the time, but I have my own reasons for finding the cat. I cannot help thinking about the Captain and lady Rose upstairs; I see her on his knees, I see him on her bed; I am dying to see them together. It's still bright outside and I don't think they closed the bedroom door for good, but my imagination tells me otherwise.
"Oh m'God, matey!" I hear Squall's voice on the other end of the garden. "I can't believe it! I have the cat! It's here!"
We rush to him and find him standing over a little empty cistern under the garden wall. The unfortunate cat didn't count the distance well and probably slipped from the wall into the cistern. I can tell it's not an adult one, it's barely grown out of its kittenhood. Poor Tarry, she almost lost her voice trying to call her mistress; her black fur is bristled and her yellow eyes are full of panic. The cistern resembles a stony mortar and it's walls are too smooth for the cat to climb.
And, of course, Tarry is crazy from fear and although she's exhausted, she doesn't forget to fight. Squall has already two bloody scratches on his hands and he's swearing with all dirty words he knows.
"She's mine," he says, "I've found her, but how I'm to take that cursed beast out of it? She's gonna to bloody take me eyes out!"
"Alright, mate, I can do it," I say. "Don't worry, I don't want your reward, but I'll carry the cat to lady Rose, alright?"
"Alright, we've an accord," says Squall with relief.
I take my coat off and gently cover the cistern, then wait. Tarry's cries muffle and cease; I wrap her swiftly in my coat and carry out of the cistern.
"It stops fighting when you wrap it in some dark cloth," I say to Betsy, who's looking at me in awe. "You have to pay attention not to squeeze it, and make sure it has the air to breathe, and it's going to be perfectly quiet."
We go upstairs, Betsy, Squall and me, but Betsy stops suddenly at the lady Rose's doors.
"I don't think that the two of you should come in," she says. "I'm allowed to, but you're not."
"Alright," says Squall eagerly, and I can see he's thinking of the Captain's wrath, "I'll stay here."
"And I won't stay here," I say stubbornly. "I have lady Rose's favourite cat and I want my... Squall's reward, anyway."
Betsy looks at me frowning, but then she sighs.
"Well, the lady allowed me to come in if I have something important to tell her. She was worried about Tarry all the morning. I'll come in."
"You know what, mate," whispers Squall to me, when we are waiting for Betsy in the corridor under a big mirror in heavy mahogany frames, "are ye daft today or what? Yer trying to talk to our Captain's lady... 'Tis not very good fer ye. The Captain's not pleased at all."
"Ah, mate, you have eyes and what do you see?" I ask him not so innocently, scratching Tarry under her chin. "I don't want to talk to the lady, I just want her not to worry anymore. I think the Captain shouldn't have anything against it. She'll be even sweeter to him when she sees that her Tarry is safe and sound."
Betsy opens the door and invites me with one impatient gesture, and I step in with Tarry in my arms.
The room is not as big as I've thought, but it's bright and pleasant, with a round table in the middle and several very richly made and heavy chairs. The evening breeze is moving silky green curtains, the high windows are crystally clean and I can almost count little columns of the terrace balustrade.
They are sitting very close, with bowls of wine and silver plate of fruits before them. Lady Rose's golden head rests on the Captain's shoulder, her light laced dress covers his boots - their thights are touching, but she's not sitting on his knees. The new lute with a living rosette is placed on the chair next to her.
It's clear to me that the Captain was against letting me here, but lady Rose asked him to allow me in. His look is that of hatred and warning, but I'm pretending I don't understand it. Well, I'm not myself today. I'm unhappy and bitter... or am I? When I'm watching them now, I cannot help but feel admiration for this beautiful pair. They don't need words, they don't need anything more than only their closeness now, they are taking their delight in each other's company, nothing more. There will come time for giving and receiving love as ordinary people understand it, but now that simple moment of rest is enough.
Lady Rose lifts herself briefly from the chair to take Tarry from my coat and says:
"I'm so grateful to you, Ritchie."
"It's not me, in fact, m'lady," I say. "It's Squall. He found Tarry in the oval cystern in the garden. I've only taken her out, using my coat, because she was fighting a bit too bravely."
"So the award should go to both of you," she says taking two dubloons from her purse.
But I take only one coin and return the other.
"Begging your pardon, m'lady," I say, "I didn't do anything. I'll give this one to Squall..."
She narrows her eyes, thinking that I despise her money this time.
"Is there anything else you'd like to get?"
"Yes, m'lady, there is," I say with a smug smile. "I'd like to ask you for help. You're playing lute, I see; we have a lute on our ship too, but it's in not so good condition and it needs new strings. If you have spare ones and would be so kind as to give us some..."
She smiles, somehow relieved, but I can see a little malicious flick in her eyes.
"I'll surely give you new strings, if you need them so badly..." she says, and the Captain interrupts her suddenly:
"We can ask you when we're leavin', my lady. No need to bother you now. Get out of here, Ritchie," he says standing up.
But she stops him.
"Wait, please, Captain," she says sweetly and pleadingly. "We have some time to spare, let's play a little."
He sighs, looking at her.
"Play what, my lady?"
"Let's play lute together. Just a little, please."
He looks at me and I can say that he's furious; were it not for lady Rose's presence, he'd throw me down the staircase. Or worse. But her soft hand on his sleeve calms him down. He doesn't want their precious moment together to be interrupted, last of all by me, and lady Rose's idea of playing lute with me is something very disturbing, but he knows her and he wants to see where she is going.
"Isn't it charming, a miniature concert for you, Captain?" she asks innocently, giving him Tarry and taking the lute from the chair. The Captain takes the cat in his big hands rather suspiciously, and lady Rose continues, "not many men can enjoy such peaceful evening, with music, harmony and mutual understanding... when daily worries and cares are absent. Ritchie, be so kind, please, give Tarry to Betsy and ask her to feed the cat. And come back here."
I do as ordered - or asked, rather - and come back to them only to see that the Captain is looking at lady Rose with a vague smile; then he looks at me still smilling, and I wonder what could possibly melt his heart so. It seems that I'm relatively safe now and don't have to fear that he would kill me if only lady Rose turns her back to us. But I know that it's not her pity that worked here - her pity is much more painful to me than would be her disdain - it's that mischief that I've seen in her dark eyes before.
She invites me to sit down, on the chair opposite to them, and touching the lute strings absent-mindedly she asks:
"What can you play, Ritchie?"
"Whatever pleases you, m'lady," I say, "I can play melodies and songs, I can play and sing alike, English and Italian and Spanish ones. Just tell me your wish and I will try to fulfill it."
"Interesting," she says and I can hear a genuine interest in her sweet yet so strong voice. "I can understand Spanish, but I don't know Spanish songs. Let's do it that way: you play me a Spanish song and I play you an English one in return."
In return? Are we not supposed to play for the Captain? But he is sitting calmly, watching us with a hint of that smile, and I understand that it's going to be a little duel rather than a concert. For a while I wonder how the Captain is feeling, with the two of us by each side. Well, I know on which side his heart is, but it doesn't matter now, because we can at last have a talk, lady Rose and me.
"We have an accord, m'lady," I say.
"You play first, then," she says unceremonially, giving me the lute.
The touch of this excellent instrument gives me strength, as always. Ah, music is indeed more powerful than anything humanity managed to invent. When you listen to it, the world you're living in disappears; when you're playing or singing, you create a world of your own.
"It will be a Spanish song," I say with a smile, "but it has Turkish words in it too, because it's sung by Jews of the Mediterranean."
"You don't have to explain it yet," says lady Rose. "If I don't understand anything, I will ask afterwards."
"As you wish, m'lady," I say taking first accords of the song I was singing under the balconies of the Ez Haim quarter not once and not even twice. Listen, lady Rose, it's a song the Captain should be singing to you: how he passed by your door and found you sitting upstairs, how he kissed the latch as if kissing your cheeks.
"Wait, wait," she says with her hand in the air, "I can see that "bezir" is "to kiss", but what does the refrain mean?"
Ah, yes, the refrain is not Spanish at all.
"It's a perfect line in a song that I am singing for you, m'lady," I say. "'Aman, aman, gul pembe, ne bu yuselik sende' - it means 'ah, pink rose, how beautiful you are.'"
She blushes. It's really delightful to see her blush.
"Yes, this song is about you," I continue with an innocent worship in my voice. "But maybe I should explain that 'el sarraf' in the next stanza means 'a coffer'."
And then I sing those lines that fit lady Rose even more: "do not reject me when I'm kissing and embracing you - because I hold and I keep you like ducats in the coffer... ah, pink rose, how beautiful you are".
There is now a brief, but vehement fire of anger in her eyes. But lady Rose, think of it, you are the Captain's property even more than I am. He is bringing you chests of gifts, but you are a thing in one of his chests yourself - aren't you, beautiful pink rose? Is he not holding you and keeping you?
"It was a nice song indeed," she says calmly taking lute from my hands. "Now it's my turn. Are you enjoying it, Captain Barbossa?"
"Why, my lady Rose," he says with a little too broad a smile, "most certainly I am."
I feel a sting of reproach beneath his amused words, and I can imagine that he gave her an advice not to treat me so nicely and not to allow me too much, but she didn't listen to him. I'd bet he is thinking: 'now, now, ye see, my sweet love? I've told you he's not to be treated politely. He is not worth yer kindness. You give him a finger an' he wants the whole hand. You'll know better next time.' He is not pleased with me, but he thinks that his stubborn beauty has been taught a good lesson.
"This song," she says looking into my eyes sweetly, "does not need to be explained."
I smile leaning my head on my hands. The Captain looks like he wants to push my elbows from the table, but he's restraining himself.
"Climb not too high for fear thou catch a fall.
Seek not to build thy nest within the sun,
Refrain the thing which bringeth thee to thrall,
Lest when too late thou find'st thyself undone:
Cause thy desires to rest and sleep a pace,
And let thy fancy take her resting place."
Ah, so there is what you think of me, lady Rose? You regard me as much less than yourself? Well, you're right here, perhaps, and I cannot fight with this song, for I am indeed nothing compared to you; and if your lover is the sun, there is only you that would not burn your wings. But who told you that it's fancy that is controlling me? Are you afraid of it? Because indeed, so many people do stupid things for love, destroying themselves and those loved all the same... yet I didn't give you reason to judge me so lightly. I am not speaking of my fancy or my love. There is so many other unnamed desires I can be perfectly contended with. I can live without that cheap 'love', lady Rose, you know what? I laugh at love.
"Now it's again a Spanish song," I say taking the lute, "and it doesn't need any explanation either."
It's one of these songs that my dona Ursula taught me, a minute courtly song with words that almost cannot stick together, and finally leave you with the impression of being mocked and ridiculed.
"Ay que me rio de amor,
escuchen atiendan,
vean lo que importa
seguir mi opinion."
Oh, how I laugh at love - listen to me, you'll see how important it is to follow my thought. The one that loves you will reproach you and teach you, but the one whose love is more like an illness, will say that you are right and stay by your side. The one who loves you will be reluctant to admit his love, the one whose love is ill enough to be called something else will never be ashamed of you. You do not have to worry, lady Rose, I don't need any love, I laugh at it.
She lowers her head for a moment, but when she raises it I can see I didn't convince her. Now it's her turn. The Captain seems strangely embarrassed, and he's looking out the window. Why? Is he cursing his idea of bringing me here with him? But what did you think, Captain - did you expect that your lady will pretend that she is innocently blind? Or did you consider her a whip to bring me to my knees?
"I love unloved; such is mine adventure,
And cannot cease till I sore smart;
But love my foe, that fervent creature
Whose unkindness hath kill'd mine heart;
From his love nothing can me rent,
But live in pain while I endure
And love unloved, such is mine adventure."
I know this song, and there should be 'from her love nothing can me rent' - but lady Rose changed it; she was singing it about me. Ah, she does see me through, she doesn't believe me in the slightest. So be it, then; I won't try to convince her otherwise. If my thoughts and desires can be revealed so easily, what can I do? And lady Rose is much more powerful than me, it's true; I won't carry this fight any further.
I shake my head, and she doesn't hand me the lute again; she knows she won.
"Begging your pardon, m'lady," I say with a bow, "I cannot thing of any song that would fit the mood now. Please, m'lady, do dismiss me now..."
"Oh, you are free to go," she says with a pleasant smile. "I hope you will rest well, you and Squall."
"Thank you, m'lady," I say raising from my chair. I don't want to look at the Captain, but he stops me suddenly with a serious face.
"Yer to stay downstairs with Squall an' not to go anywhere else. Is that clear to ye?"
"Aye, Captain," I say with my voice as tired as I can make it.
"Yer to sleep in the kitchen in case I need any of ye. An' yer not to wander around the house. Understood?"
"Aye, Captain," I say, "perfectly."
"Don't make a nuisance of yerself or I'll deal with ye. Ye can go now."
I wish them a pleasant evening and go downstairs, to Betsy and Squall, who look as if they've reached their own accord in my absence. I give Squall his reward coin and sit under the stove, looking dully at little black Tarry playing with a fish backbone. The kitchen is gloomy, full of evening shadows. I sigh looking at the naked stone floor, at the huge cold table with deep scars from butcher's knife, at the smoked walls... I'm not really tired, rather strangely stupefied and dizzy. I'm not even hungry; I put away the generous supper prepared by Betsy's friendly hands, and doze off leaning my head on my arms.
When I wake up, it's already night. The moonlight is pouring through a mated window; Squall is snoring under the stove. Tarry is sleeping in the basket near the door. Everything is calm, but I am not. I have still this little sunny room, with the Captain and lady Rose seated at the round table, beautiful, cheerful, shining with happiness, before my eyes. I cannot stay here.
"Hey, Squall, wake up!"
"Whhh..."
"Wake up, stupid. You're not going to spend all night like that, right?"
"What d'ye want?..."
"It's your first night on land, and you're sleeping?! Don't be an idiot!"
"Go to hell, Ritchie."
"Come on, let's go to La Rosa Sin Espina."
"What?" and Squall sits on his blanket. "Are ye sick? The Captain told us to stay here on his orders!"
"I may be sick, mate, but you are stupid. He won't need us even if hell freezes tonight. He'll be a-playing Adam and Eve with lady Rose all night round. And we deserve our enjoyment too, you agree with me."
I can see he's beginning to sway.
"How are we goin' to go outside?"
"We have a window here, mate. Come on. I'd go alone, but I don't know where this brothel is."
"Ah, yer right." He scratches his head. "But if the Captain wakes up an' we aren't here, he's goin' to kill us."
"We'll stay here from tomorrow like nice boys, mate. But today it's a perfect chance to see some girls. Come on. The night is young, but we don't have much time. And you got money from lady Rose, right? Are you going to use it at all or not?"
He doesn't want to stay, but he's afraid of the Captain. Uh, what a hard piece of work.
"Well, I'll be blowed if I stay here," I declare and take the chair to climb to the little window.
"Wait, wait, I'm goin' with ye," he whispers feverishly. "But if he finds out..."
"Are you a child or what, mate? If he finds out, let's say it was my idea, because I haven't been to the New World brothel in my life. He's going to understand it. Look, he has his lady tonight, he'll be softer to us."
Squall nods and helps me with the chair, and we climb into the warm embrace of the night.
tbc
Rating: PG-13 this time. ONLY this time.
A/N: Ez Haim is the name of the oldest Jewish quarter of Thessaloniki, Greece.
I'd like to thank all my wonderful reviewers and readers most warmly; especially Mint Condition, ShadowsFalling and Alteng (your story is so sweet! I love your Pintel and Ragetti).
----------------------------
III
I was right in my fears and hopes. My Captain cannot have an average woman for his lover. She is as clever as she is beautiful; I will always remember this little flick of alarm that showed in her eyes when they met mine. She felt I've acknowledged her power, but she has yet to understand why the hell I should.
"By God, Captain Barbossa," she says, her voice sparkling with mischief, but her look aware and cold, "my trust in you is unsheakable indeed. I've almost taken him for a girl in boy's clothes."
"Ah, and ye wouldn't be the first person to make that mistake, my lady," he answers with his light smile. "But a mistake it would be. Ritchie may look like a girl, but he can take a floggin' like a man."
I narrow my eyes. So you must assure her you're not soft to me; Captain, please, spare your fatigue. She can see the yesterday's bruise on my face and it doesn't count as an excuse to her; you can swear to Virgin Mary you didn't touch me, but lady Rose knows better, I've told her enough with that surrender in my look.
"Oh, but I am sure he is eager to obey whatever orders you give him," she says sending me a little sad smile.
What, does she pity me?
"I am doing my best, m'lady," I say innocently, lowering my eyes.
"I've always praised the Captain for his talents in finding the worthy," she says courtly, "he never ceases to surprise me. But you can rest from your duties now, whatever they are, as long as the Captain is a guest in my house." And she leans her hand on his shoulder.
Now there is a blow; I can't help but smile with admiration.
"Your kindness is well appreciated, m'lady," I say looking at the rosy hand on the silver-embroidered coat, and then I meet the Captain's eyes.
There is a clear warning in them: 'shut up, Ritchie, or it'll cost you dearly; you're not allowed to talk to her. Shut up NOW.'
I know the Captain is not afraid of lady Rose's jealousy, she doesn't seem to throw a fit about her man having some random fuck when he's far away. It's the sight of his lady having a poisonous little talk with said random fuck that irritates him so. I am not worthy even to look upon her, let alone to say veiled impertinences like that. Alright.
She doesn't want to pay more attention to me than it's necessary now - one quick glance at the Captain and she knows the further conversation is not welcome; and she frowns a little. She feels she can say and ask anything, it's just that I am not allowed to answer. But she is clever; she will wait.
So she leans on the Captain's arm and leads him into the house. Squall, who was bored to death during our little sparring, brisks up and elbows me to follow him. It's not his first time here, and he knows we should go to the kitchen with the old man who was waiting at the gate.
"What are we supposed to do in the kitchen?" I ask like an idiot.
"Are ye sick today or what, mate? We're goin' to get somethin' to eat. An' then we go back to La Aranha to bring presents for lady Rose."
"Only the two of us?"
"No, the Captain's goin' to be with us."
Uhm, it's not good news for me. The last thing I need now is to be with the Captain when his lady is not there. I'm going to earn some serious scolding.
"And then?"
"And then we stay here for the night. We're his attendants, don't ye remember? We're to stay where he stays."
Oh, well, great. I'm to stay downstairs like some poor servant, while he's playing with his lady upstairs? I'm to sit here with a pint of thin beer, while he will drink wine with his love on her damn perfumed bed? I didn't see him touch her now except for kissing her hand, and I can only guess how powerful, how full of genuine love his desire can be, if he is restraining himself like that. He is not going to haste, he will not throw himself upon her; I can almost see his big hands on her slender shoulders, his eyes, that in vain try to hide his enchantment with his lady's beauty, on her fair face, and finally his lips on her delicate skin right under the rosy ear. And I am to stay downstairs.
"Hey, Squall, mate," I say, "what about La Rosa Sin Espina? You know, the brothel. Are we bloody not allowed to go there?"
"We're to stay with the Captain," he answers, blinking.
"He has no heart," I murmur under my breath. "He can at least invite us to the party."
"W-what party, matey?"
"Never mind. Sweet Jesus," I say with a sigh.
We are given some nice, thick bean soup, and beer as well. The cook, a taciturn big man in his forties, is standing over us, watching us gloomily. Or should I said he is watching me? He knows Squall already, but I'm new here and he doesn't trust me at all. His stare is wandering from the silver spoon in my hand to my hat on the reed chair next to me, then to my face and to my hand again. I can tell he is suspicious of me, as is the lady Rose's maid, Betsy with a horse face, as is the old doorkeeper, as is a fellow in a dusty wig who was helping the Captain to undress. It seems all the servants here learned from their mistress to judge people, or it's an unseen genius of the place that tells all its inhabitants to be cautious and careful with new visitors... or do they simply feel that I don't belong here and I'm staying in this house against my will, and that I've brought anxiety and disturbance with me?...
The Captain is surprisingly silent through all the way back to La Aranha and I calm myself down a little. I wonder what they have been doing upstairs. I don't think they were so impatient as to satisfy themselves so fast. I'm experienced in that sort of things, I cannot feel this particular relief and tranquility that takes its hold upon a man who has just fulfilled his desire. It was a kiss, a little caress, nothing more. Maybe they discussed business. She is the Captain's informer, they have other things that bind them together, not only pleasures of flesh. Lady Rose is special to the Captain, she is his friend and companion as well as his lover.
And I am not his friend nor his companion, and although he is taking his pleasure from me, I am not his lover either. I can think of one word only, but I've heard it from him already and I don't want to repeat it myself.
We borrowed a mule from lady Rose's household, and I'm scratching it between the ears absent-mindedly all the way. I feel like this poor mule, lonely and obedient yet unnoticed, ah so deadly unnoticed. It's better to be killed by the Captain's hand that to be ignored like that.
But it's Squall who is to stay in the docks with the friendly mule, among busy people running to and fro with boxes, packages and bags; he sighs and crouches by the mule's side, preparing to wait for the Captain and me; we are to be back with the tribute to his golden-haired lady.
When we are in the Captain's cabin, I notice two solid chests placed proudly in the middle. I didn't sleep here at night and I didn't know the Captain was preparing himself so thoroughly. I cannot help but smile, and then something inside me gags my own common sense and cheerfully takes over.
"Um, Captain," I say, "begging your pardon, I don't think we can take these two chests with us."
He looks at me narrowing his eyes and I know already that it wasn't a good idea to try anything at all.
"Did I ask ye 'bout yer opinion?"
"No, Captain, but we should to spare the poor beast. It's not going to manage carrying those chests, really. I think they are starving it. I mean, the servants in lady Ros..."
"Shut up, or I'll make ye carry them yerself!" he shouts. Ah, he cannot stand the sound of her name in my mouth.
"Just wanted to help," I say sheepishly.
He laughs a short, cruel laugh.
"Nah, Ritchie, I don't think ye want to help. It's a nice day today an' we can end it nicely... or not. Keep yer advices to yerself. Ah, and if ye truly want to help, make some room in that chest."
He goes behind the screen, and I open the lid. Maybe these chests aren't that heavy after all. There are mainly textiles in this one. Silk, brocade, laces, delicate linen wrapped in a vague vanilla scent. There are dresses too, dresses that always are a promise of a woman, even if the owner is dead - because there is always a new queen somewhere who is going to take her regalia and to rule over the world of men.
I'm trying not to notice that some of these dresses are known to me. I am pleading dona Ursula to go back to the land of shadows, but I see her in these velvet blue folds: it was our first meeting, she had a black open-work fan and an azure mantilla, she looked at me from the carriage window and told me she liked me with one bold glance. She was accomplished in the art of talking only with her eyes and I was a willing accomplice, and this is why lady Rose understood me today so well.
Ah, lady Rose. Now she will be wearing my dona Ursula's clothes. I surprise myself: I am looking forward to seeing her in them. Will she not belong to me by this a little, after all?
But then the Captain goes back from behind the screen with a lute in his hands. No, it's not dona Ursula's lute; I cannot recognize it. It's not a big one - a delicate, almond shaped instrument with a devilishly carved rosette in the middle, a rosette that is almost living. The rosette, the Rose, all is for the Captain. I don't have anything here, not even myself; if anything belongs to me, it's only my guilty memories.
"What are ye doin', ye lazy devil? I've told ye to take those dresses out, not to sit there with 'em!"
Ah. I'm sitting with a bunch of dona Ursula's dresses in my arms.
"Aye, Captain," I say obediently, standing up. "But maybe we can wrap the lute in the dresses so that it's safe to transport."
"Maybe yer right." He looks at me amusingly as always. "Ye want me to get rid of these dresses?"
"I don't care for dresses," I say narrowing my eyes, "as long as you don't expect me to wear them. But now as you have found a better use for them, you may add the scarlet one to the collection as well."
He looks at me for a long while and I make a step back unwillingly, thinking that this time I've gone too far. But he just smiles and says simply:
"No, the scarlet dress stays here." And then he turns his back to me.
I feel as if he spat on me. Well, he doesn't want to be bothered, he's just ignoring me, because it's such a happy day he cannot even think about dealing with me. He's right, I'll shut up.
Some men from the crew carry the chests to the docks and help Squall and me to fasten them on the mule's back. I feel sleepy; the Captain's energetic steps, Squall's hopeful face, the sun shining on all these townfolks, busying with their loads somewhere or just sitting and eating, or looking at us lazily from the windows, all the general happiness only annoys me. I want to doze off in some dark corner and to find myself back on La Aranha when we will be again at sea.
Lady Rose's house is open and waiting for us. The doorkeeper is going to call the servants to help us with the chests, but the Captain stops him. He wants only Squall and me to do this task. Oh, so I'm just your servant just now, Captain? Are we, pirates, not equals, don't we call ourselves "brethren"? Am I to carry gifts for your lover, because you order me so?
Then it dawns upon me that I'm not a pirate yet, after all. I haven't killed a man, I haven't been in a battle. The pistol I carry so proudly has yet to be used. And yes, I am the Captain's servant: I bring him food and pour him wine, and clean his cabin - that's all my contribution to the general pirate cause. And the only reason why I shouldn't be used for carrying presents for lady Rose - that reason is valid only to me and is, well, highly unglorious.
Lady Rose thanks us very generously, with a charming little nod and smile. She is not looking at me, however, her eyes thank mainly Squall and not me. And I can see that Squall has something more in mind, he's watching lady Rose with such hope, almost with greed. She blushes and gives him a gold coin. Then she blushes even more and it's delightful to watch her little, perfectly shaped ears, because they are now red with embarrasment, when she finally turns to me and hands me over a gold coin too. Why is she so ashamed? Poor little beauty, you're in your house and in your rights, I think taking the coin from her. And it's a first time when our hands meet: her frail long fingers with pearly nails brush my dirty hand for a moment, and I smile; she touched me, there's a bond between us already.
She thanks the Captain with a deep curtsy, but her next gesture is surprisingly intimate and tender: she takes his hand and sighs, apologizing that she's a little bit worried, because her favourite cat is missing; it didn't come for breakfast and nobody knows where it can be. I'm ready to roll my eyes, when I hear that the cat is named "Tarry", because it's tar black and looks like a devil, and I look at lady Rose with sympathy again. I've never heard about black cat that could be allowed to rest on a beautiful lady's lap; black cat is considered to be a witch's companion, nothing less, nothing more. And ladies don't like cats in general - there are still lands where cats are burned as cursed beasts, devil's apprentices - one more stain on humanity's white Christian garment. I think about my living in Thessaloniki and in Istanbul, I recall fondness that Jews and Muslims have for cats, I remember furry little balls bathing in the sun on the mosque yards... then I suddenly remember an unhappy lot of dogs in those cat-friendly lands and I'm forced to sigh. Ah, human stupidity is eternal, it only changes its shape.
"I've promised my men a reward for finding my Tarry," says lady Rose, "but nobody knows where she's hiding. I hope she's not ill."
"Why should she be ill?" asks the Captain.
"Ah, because cats hide themselves when they're not feeling well. And if they are going to die, they hide so skilfully that nobody can find them." Lady Rose sighs. "Cats are noble animals, indeed, hiding their weakness and pain. We should learn from them, we're all too often carrying our ugly worries and misfortunes on our sleeves, as if proud of them. They are to be hidden, weakness is nothing to be proud of."
"How right you are, my lady Rose," the Captain says kissing her fingers again. "We all know some people who should have this truth beaten into their heads."
"I'm sure that Tarry is well, m'lady," I interrupt this unwanted moral lesson. "If she was with you yesterday, it means she's just gone somewhere. If she were ill, she would've disappeared yesterday evening."
The Captain rolls his eyes impatiently, but lady Rose is looking at me with hope.
"How do you know that?"
"I know how cats behave, m'lady," I say. "I'd bet she's just hunting outside to bring you a gift of dead little bird or mouse. All living creatures that hunt are known to bring their prey to their loved ones."
"Get out to the kitchen, you two," says the Captain giving me that warning look again. I bow hastily and take Squall with me.
Betsy with a horse face proves herself to be a generous woman with a certain fondness for young men, because she brings us beer and fish and nice bread, and we sit to have a cozy chat. The cook is avoiding us, hovewer, and he puts his nose high with an air of disapproval for Betsy. She doesn't pay attention to him and bows over the table to say that the cook has always hated poor little Tarry, accusing her of stealing bacon and cracklings.
"And you like Tarry, miss Betsy?" I ask her.
"Oh, I didn't like her at the beginning, she looked like a little demon! But our lady Rose loved her and then I liked her too. The creature was able to show she liked you, you know. Our lady was always laughing at that witch thing, she told us we're not to listen to that rubbish. There are people here who say she's a witch, mind you."
"A witch? Why?"
"Why, because she's too beautiful. And she doesn't want men to live in her house, she likes to be alone. There are so many young gentlemen who'd like to become her lovers. But she turns all the proposals down. Only God Almighty knows how much money I was given to carry letters and presents to our lady. Many young men hate her now, I believe." And Betsy draws even closer to me and places her big veinous hand on my knee. "I am afraid som'times, you know. We're not safe here. All townfolks being Protestants and we being Catholics."
"Is lady Rose a Catholic?"
"Sure she is. She is an Irish. And here, she doesn't even have a church to go to on Sunday. Your Captain is always worrying about her, but she wants to stay here, she likes Antigua, and that merchant of her can easily visit her here. But I'm afraid. It's not very safe place for us."
"Funny," I say looking in Betsy's blue eyes, "I'm a Catholic too."
"You are? Oh," she says smilling shyly.
"Not only me," I say looking at Squall. "Most of our crew are Catholics, right, Squall?"
He blinks and I kick him under the table, so he has to agree, but then he looks at me with dismay. I ignore him and ask Betsy coaxingly:
"Do you think we could search for little Tarry too, miss Betsy?"
"Where do you want to search for her, Ritchie?" she asks me, frowning.
"Wherever you'd trust us enough to allow the search," I say taking her hand lightly. "If you'd like to show us the garden, we can look for Tarry in the garden... and then share the reward."
"Oh," she says holding my hand with maidenly smile, "we can search the garden then, because I've looked through the whole house."
"I don't want to share the reward, mate," says Squall with a little flare in his eyes that were rather dull until now.
"Alright, you do with your reward what you please," I say standing up.
"I don't desire your reward either, Ritchie," says Betsy generously, but I can see that she desires something else.
"Good," I say.
We go down to the garden. Squall rushes to the completely opposite corner, and we start to look through the bushes. I cannot help but smile to myself at the rather poor condition of lady Rose's garden; it seems she is not very concerned about the appearances. Flowers and grass are growing alike in big clusters, and a little pond in the middle is almost invisible under the thick muddy-green cover. But I don't think that Tarry was so stupid as to drown in it. I suspect a cruel joke; if what Betsy said about townsfolk taking lady Rose for a witch, then the poor beast can be in danger too.
Betsy is looking through the grass rather clumsily, and her eyes go to me all the time, but I have my own reasons for finding the cat. I cannot help thinking about the Captain and lady Rose upstairs; I see her on his knees, I see him on her bed; I am dying to see them together. It's still bright outside and I don't think they closed the bedroom door for good, but my imagination tells me otherwise.
"Oh m'God, matey!" I hear Squall's voice on the other end of the garden. "I can't believe it! I have the cat! It's here!"
We rush to him and find him standing over a little empty cistern under the garden wall. The unfortunate cat didn't count the distance well and probably slipped from the wall into the cistern. I can tell it's not an adult one, it's barely grown out of its kittenhood. Poor Tarry, she almost lost her voice trying to call her mistress; her black fur is bristled and her yellow eyes are full of panic. The cistern resembles a stony mortar and it's walls are too smooth for the cat to climb.
And, of course, Tarry is crazy from fear and although she's exhausted, she doesn't forget to fight. Squall has already two bloody scratches on his hands and he's swearing with all dirty words he knows.
"She's mine," he says, "I've found her, but how I'm to take that cursed beast out of it? She's gonna to bloody take me eyes out!"
"Alright, mate, I can do it," I say. "Don't worry, I don't want your reward, but I'll carry the cat to lady Rose, alright?"
"Alright, we've an accord," says Squall with relief.
I take my coat off and gently cover the cistern, then wait. Tarry's cries muffle and cease; I wrap her swiftly in my coat and carry out of the cistern.
"It stops fighting when you wrap it in some dark cloth," I say to Betsy, who's looking at me in awe. "You have to pay attention not to squeeze it, and make sure it has the air to breathe, and it's going to be perfectly quiet."
We go upstairs, Betsy, Squall and me, but Betsy stops suddenly at the lady Rose's doors.
"I don't think that the two of you should come in," she says. "I'm allowed to, but you're not."
"Alright," says Squall eagerly, and I can see he's thinking of the Captain's wrath, "I'll stay here."
"And I won't stay here," I say stubbornly. "I have lady Rose's favourite cat and I want my... Squall's reward, anyway."
Betsy looks at me frowning, but then she sighs.
"Well, the lady allowed me to come in if I have something important to tell her. She was worried about Tarry all the morning. I'll come in."
"You know what, mate," whispers Squall to me, when we are waiting for Betsy in the corridor under a big mirror in heavy mahogany frames, "are ye daft today or what? Yer trying to talk to our Captain's lady... 'Tis not very good fer ye. The Captain's not pleased at all."
"Ah, mate, you have eyes and what do you see?" I ask him not so innocently, scratching Tarry under her chin. "I don't want to talk to the lady, I just want her not to worry anymore. I think the Captain shouldn't have anything against it. She'll be even sweeter to him when she sees that her Tarry is safe and sound."
Betsy opens the door and invites me with one impatient gesture, and I step in with Tarry in my arms.
The room is not as big as I've thought, but it's bright and pleasant, with a round table in the middle and several very richly made and heavy chairs. The evening breeze is moving silky green curtains, the high windows are crystally clean and I can almost count little columns of the terrace balustrade.
They are sitting very close, with bowls of wine and silver plate of fruits before them. Lady Rose's golden head rests on the Captain's shoulder, her light laced dress covers his boots - their thights are touching, but she's not sitting on his knees. The new lute with a living rosette is placed on the chair next to her.
It's clear to me that the Captain was against letting me here, but lady Rose asked him to allow me in. His look is that of hatred and warning, but I'm pretending I don't understand it. Well, I'm not myself today. I'm unhappy and bitter... or am I? When I'm watching them now, I cannot help but feel admiration for this beautiful pair. They don't need words, they don't need anything more than only their closeness now, they are taking their delight in each other's company, nothing more. There will come time for giving and receiving love as ordinary people understand it, but now that simple moment of rest is enough.
Lady Rose lifts herself briefly from the chair to take Tarry from my coat and says:
"I'm so grateful to you, Ritchie."
"It's not me, in fact, m'lady," I say. "It's Squall. He found Tarry in the oval cystern in the garden. I've only taken her out, using my coat, because she was fighting a bit too bravely."
"So the award should go to both of you," she says taking two dubloons from her purse.
But I take only one coin and return the other.
"Begging your pardon, m'lady," I say, "I didn't do anything. I'll give this one to Squall..."
She narrows her eyes, thinking that I despise her money this time.
"Is there anything else you'd like to get?"
"Yes, m'lady, there is," I say with a smug smile. "I'd like to ask you for help. You're playing lute, I see; we have a lute on our ship too, but it's in not so good condition and it needs new strings. If you have spare ones and would be so kind as to give us some..."
She smiles, somehow relieved, but I can see a little malicious flick in her eyes.
"I'll surely give you new strings, if you need them so badly..." she says, and the Captain interrupts her suddenly:
"We can ask you when we're leavin', my lady. No need to bother you now. Get out of here, Ritchie," he says standing up.
But she stops him.
"Wait, please, Captain," she says sweetly and pleadingly. "We have some time to spare, let's play a little."
He sighs, looking at her.
"Play what, my lady?"
"Let's play lute together. Just a little, please."
He looks at me and I can say that he's furious; were it not for lady Rose's presence, he'd throw me down the staircase. Or worse. But her soft hand on his sleeve calms him down. He doesn't want their precious moment together to be interrupted, last of all by me, and lady Rose's idea of playing lute with me is something very disturbing, but he knows her and he wants to see where she is going.
"Isn't it charming, a miniature concert for you, Captain?" she asks innocently, giving him Tarry and taking the lute from the chair. The Captain takes the cat in his big hands rather suspiciously, and lady Rose continues, "not many men can enjoy such peaceful evening, with music, harmony and mutual understanding... when daily worries and cares are absent. Ritchie, be so kind, please, give Tarry to Betsy and ask her to feed the cat. And come back here."
I do as ordered - or asked, rather - and come back to them only to see that the Captain is looking at lady Rose with a vague smile; then he looks at me still smilling, and I wonder what could possibly melt his heart so. It seems that I'm relatively safe now and don't have to fear that he would kill me if only lady Rose turns her back to us. But I know that it's not her pity that worked here - her pity is much more painful to me than would be her disdain - it's that mischief that I've seen in her dark eyes before.
She invites me to sit down, on the chair opposite to them, and touching the lute strings absent-mindedly she asks:
"What can you play, Ritchie?"
"Whatever pleases you, m'lady," I say, "I can play melodies and songs, I can play and sing alike, English and Italian and Spanish ones. Just tell me your wish and I will try to fulfill it."
"Interesting," she says and I can hear a genuine interest in her sweet yet so strong voice. "I can understand Spanish, but I don't know Spanish songs. Let's do it that way: you play me a Spanish song and I play you an English one in return."
In return? Are we not supposed to play for the Captain? But he is sitting calmly, watching us with a hint of that smile, and I understand that it's going to be a little duel rather than a concert. For a while I wonder how the Captain is feeling, with the two of us by each side. Well, I know on which side his heart is, but it doesn't matter now, because we can at last have a talk, lady Rose and me.
"We have an accord, m'lady," I say.
"You play first, then," she says unceremonially, giving me the lute.
The touch of this excellent instrument gives me strength, as always. Ah, music is indeed more powerful than anything humanity managed to invent. When you listen to it, the world you're living in disappears; when you're playing or singing, you create a world of your own.
"It will be a Spanish song," I say with a smile, "but it has Turkish words in it too, because it's sung by Jews of the Mediterranean."
"You don't have to explain it yet," says lady Rose. "If I don't understand anything, I will ask afterwards."
"As you wish, m'lady," I say taking first accords of the song I was singing under the balconies of the Ez Haim quarter not once and not even twice. Listen, lady Rose, it's a song the Captain should be singing to you: how he passed by your door and found you sitting upstairs, how he kissed the latch as if kissing your cheeks.
"Wait, wait," she says with her hand in the air, "I can see that "bezir" is "to kiss", but what does the refrain mean?"
Ah, yes, the refrain is not Spanish at all.
"It's a perfect line in a song that I am singing for you, m'lady," I say. "'Aman, aman, gul pembe, ne bu yuselik sende' - it means 'ah, pink rose, how beautiful you are.'"
She blushes. It's really delightful to see her blush.
"Yes, this song is about you," I continue with an innocent worship in my voice. "But maybe I should explain that 'el sarraf' in the next stanza means 'a coffer'."
And then I sing those lines that fit lady Rose even more: "do not reject me when I'm kissing and embracing you - because I hold and I keep you like ducats in the coffer... ah, pink rose, how beautiful you are".
There is now a brief, but vehement fire of anger in her eyes. But lady Rose, think of it, you are the Captain's property even more than I am. He is bringing you chests of gifts, but you are a thing in one of his chests yourself - aren't you, beautiful pink rose? Is he not holding you and keeping you?
"It was a nice song indeed," she says calmly taking lute from my hands. "Now it's my turn. Are you enjoying it, Captain Barbossa?"
"Why, my lady Rose," he says with a little too broad a smile, "most certainly I am."
I feel a sting of reproach beneath his amused words, and I can imagine that he gave her an advice not to treat me so nicely and not to allow me too much, but she didn't listen to him. I'd bet he is thinking: 'now, now, ye see, my sweet love? I've told you he's not to be treated politely. He is not worth yer kindness. You give him a finger an' he wants the whole hand. You'll know better next time.' He is not pleased with me, but he thinks that his stubborn beauty has been taught a good lesson.
"This song," she says looking into my eyes sweetly, "does not need to be explained."
I smile leaning my head on my hands. The Captain looks like he wants to push my elbows from the table, but he's restraining himself.
"Climb not too high for fear thou catch a fall.
Seek not to build thy nest within the sun,
Refrain the thing which bringeth thee to thrall,
Lest when too late thou find'st thyself undone:
Cause thy desires to rest and sleep a pace,
And let thy fancy take her resting place."
Ah, so there is what you think of me, lady Rose? You regard me as much less than yourself? Well, you're right here, perhaps, and I cannot fight with this song, for I am indeed nothing compared to you; and if your lover is the sun, there is only you that would not burn your wings. But who told you that it's fancy that is controlling me? Are you afraid of it? Because indeed, so many people do stupid things for love, destroying themselves and those loved all the same... yet I didn't give you reason to judge me so lightly. I am not speaking of my fancy or my love. There is so many other unnamed desires I can be perfectly contended with. I can live without that cheap 'love', lady Rose, you know what? I laugh at love.
"Now it's again a Spanish song," I say taking the lute, "and it doesn't need any explanation either."
It's one of these songs that my dona Ursula taught me, a minute courtly song with words that almost cannot stick together, and finally leave you with the impression of being mocked and ridiculed.
"Ay que me rio de amor,
escuchen atiendan,
vean lo que importa
seguir mi opinion."
Oh, how I laugh at love - listen to me, you'll see how important it is to follow my thought. The one that loves you will reproach you and teach you, but the one whose love is more like an illness, will say that you are right and stay by your side. The one who loves you will be reluctant to admit his love, the one whose love is ill enough to be called something else will never be ashamed of you. You do not have to worry, lady Rose, I don't need any love, I laugh at it.
She lowers her head for a moment, but when she raises it I can see I didn't convince her. Now it's her turn. The Captain seems strangely embarrassed, and he's looking out the window. Why? Is he cursing his idea of bringing me here with him? But what did you think, Captain - did you expect that your lady will pretend that she is innocently blind? Or did you consider her a whip to bring me to my knees?
"I love unloved; such is mine adventure,
And cannot cease till I sore smart;
But love my foe, that fervent creature
Whose unkindness hath kill'd mine heart;
From his love nothing can me rent,
But live in pain while I endure
And love unloved, such is mine adventure."
I know this song, and there should be 'from her love nothing can me rent' - but lady Rose changed it; she was singing it about me. Ah, she does see me through, she doesn't believe me in the slightest. So be it, then; I won't try to convince her otherwise. If my thoughts and desires can be revealed so easily, what can I do? And lady Rose is much more powerful than me, it's true; I won't carry this fight any further.
I shake my head, and she doesn't hand me the lute again; she knows she won.
"Begging your pardon, m'lady," I say with a bow, "I cannot thing of any song that would fit the mood now. Please, m'lady, do dismiss me now..."
"Oh, you are free to go," she says with a pleasant smile. "I hope you will rest well, you and Squall."
"Thank you, m'lady," I say raising from my chair. I don't want to look at the Captain, but he stops me suddenly with a serious face.
"Yer to stay downstairs with Squall an' not to go anywhere else. Is that clear to ye?"
"Aye, Captain," I say with my voice as tired as I can make it.
"Yer to sleep in the kitchen in case I need any of ye. An' yer not to wander around the house. Understood?"
"Aye, Captain," I say, "perfectly."
"Don't make a nuisance of yerself or I'll deal with ye. Ye can go now."
I wish them a pleasant evening and go downstairs, to Betsy and Squall, who look as if they've reached their own accord in my absence. I give Squall his reward coin and sit under the stove, looking dully at little black Tarry playing with a fish backbone. The kitchen is gloomy, full of evening shadows. I sigh looking at the naked stone floor, at the huge cold table with deep scars from butcher's knife, at the smoked walls... I'm not really tired, rather strangely stupefied and dizzy. I'm not even hungry; I put away the generous supper prepared by Betsy's friendly hands, and doze off leaning my head on my arms.
When I wake up, it's already night. The moonlight is pouring through a mated window; Squall is snoring under the stove. Tarry is sleeping in the basket near the door. Everything is calm, but I am not. I have still this little sunny room, with the Captain and lady Rose seated at the round table, beautiful, cheerful, shining with happiness, before my eyes. I cannot stay here.
"Hey, Squall, wake up!"
"Whhh..."
"Wake up, stupid. You're not going to spend all night like that, right?"
"What d'ye want?..."
"It's your first night on land, and you're sleeping?! Don't be an idiot!"
"Go to hell, Ritchie."
"Come on, let's go to La Rosa Sin Espina."
"What?" and Squall sits on his blanket. "Are ye sick? The Captain told us to stay here on his orders!"
"I may be sick, mate, but you are stupid. He won't need us even if hell freezes tonight. He'll be a-playing Adam and Eve with lady Rose all night round. And we deserve our enjoyment too, you agree with me."
I can see he's beginning to sway.
"How are we goin' to go outside?"
"We have a window here, mate. Come on. I'd go alone, but I don't know where this brothel is."
"Ah, yer right." He scratches his head. "But if the Captain wakes up an' we aren't here, he's goin' to kill us."
"We'll stay here from tomorrow like nice boys, mate. But today it's a perfect chance to see some girls. Come on. The night is young, but we don't have much time. And you got money from lady Rose, right? Are you going to use it at all or not?"
He doesn't want to stay, but he's afraid of the Captain. Uh, what a hard piece of work.
"Well, I'll be blowed if I stay here," I declare and take the chair to climb to the little window.
"Wait, wait, I'm goin' with ye," he whispers feverishly. "But if he finds out..."
"Are you a child or what, mate? If he finds out, let's say it was my idea, because I haven't been to the New World brothel in my life. He's going to understand it. Look, he has his lady tonight, he'll be softer to us."
Squall nods and helps me with the chair, and we climb into the warm embrace of the night.
tbc