Disclaimer: "Pirates of the Caribbean" belongs to Disney. "Ehe geia panagia" and "Morena me yaman" songs don't belong to me either, but they are anonymous.
A/N: 1) Tatavla and Pera are, like Galata which was mentioned in the previous chapter, districts of Istanbul inhabited mainly by Greeks; Tatavla doesn't exist any more, though, for it was burned to the ground and renamed Kurtulus in 1928. 2) the transcription of "Morena me yaman" isn't a mistake, it's Ladino, not Spanish. 3) 'chelibi' is a Ladino word, meaning roughly 'sir, master'.
I'd like to thank all my lovely reviewers for their kindness and support.
III
I can't see any shadow on my horizon and I'm beginning to worry. Everything is happening too easily for me: I probably managed to convince Norrington to come to the Red Stocking, I escaped arrest once again, I met Inci here... then I discovered that Gibbs' sister is her servant. It's truly frightening to have one's way smoothed like a tablecloth, for it too often leads into a pit.
But how can I worry now, sitting on the wall of the abandoned house, watching Inci's white villa with its green shutters wide open? They are open for me and the house will soon open as well. The sun is hot as hell, but seems just friendly-warm to me, the headache-inducing scent of the wild flowers in the dark unkempt garden seems just sweet and tender, nothing more. The world is on my side.
I've left Gibbs in the Red Stocking with little Jimmy. So far, all he knows is that his sister is at church with her mistress. Good for me, I have some time to worm my way into the house before Gibbs comes here.
I must be careful not to expose Inci to the Governor's jealousy, for I don't know a thing about old Sophie - is she the Governor's spy, or is she loyal to her lady? I cannot just knock at the gate and ask if Mlle Dou would see me. Fortunately, we have our way to let one of us know of the other's presence.
The street is empty, people aren't back from the Sunday service yet. There is a strained silence here, waiting only for me to break it. And break it I do, taking my lute and tapping its box, before I start playing "Ehe geia panagia", a song that serves us for a sign saying "I'm here".
I don't sing, I just play the tune -- both of us know that "it's raining in Galata and it's pouring in Tatavla, the queen among girls is the girl dressed in black. I'll drink wine in Galata, but I'll get drunk in Pera..." Since we met once in Galata, we kept running into one another, and Inci taught me that song, but it was me who was always playing it, if only to make her laugh -- the great Istanbul seemed so small to my little devil and me that time...
I can't help a laugh when I hear the sudden sound of shutters furiously closed. Aha!... You're relieved to see that I'm alive, but you're mad at me as well? But I can't go away like this, we have to talk and to celebrate this little reunion of ours - you never know, maybe it will result in some mutual benefit - but I see that in order to convince you, love, I have to change the song.
"D'akeyas ventanikas m'arrondjan fletchas,
si son de amores, vengan,
vengan derechas."
I'd bet you still remember this dreamlike, longing tune - "from these windows arrows are shot at me, but if it's out of love, the better, the better..." It was me who taught you this one, in turn, as it's a song about you - a true jewel that is hidden in muddy waters and visible only to those who can look deeper than the surface.
This time it's not the sound of shutters being closed that I hear, but the sweet noise of the gate being opened - and it's not the modest figure of old Sophie clad in grey that's greeting me, no, it's my olive-skinned little treasure, all in the silken frills and laces of her soft white peignoir. Her tarry eyes shine, her cherry lips glow, her long dark tresses seem to live - there she is, my enraged and moved and confused Inci, a true spark of hellfire.
She stands in the gate for a moment, waiting for me to jump down from the garden wall, then she grabs my sleeve and drags me unceremoniously inside the house.
"Damn you, Ritchie Brown!" she says.
"Inci, love, don't worry, I know who you are. I bring no trouble for the Governor's lady, I promise."
"Run upstairs, quickly. I've sent Sophie for some fruit, we're alone, but you've to be careful. Her brother will come here soon."
"I know, I know. Where are you going?"
"I'll bring some wine."
"Oh, not now! Stay with me! We still have time."
"What are you doing?!"
"I'm carrying you upstairs. Hold the lute."
"Are you mad? I'm pregnant!"
"That's why I'm carrying you upstairs. Now shut up."
"Ritchie, sweetie! Are you drunk already?"
"Kiss me and you'll find out."
"Mmmm... oh, you're sober!"
"I'm more innocent than this little baby inside of you. I've been to church today, milady."
"I know."
I sit her on a big sofa in the first room upstairs. It's a strangely dusty, unfriendly place, despite all its curtains, pictures and soft furniture. A crumpled handkerchief, forgotten on the virginal, is the only sign that the place is sometimes used.
"You saw me in the church?"
"Sure I did," she says proudly, fanning herself with my hat. "Why would I send Sophie away? I don't need no bloody fruit. I knew you would come."
"So tell me, why didn't you let me in at once, you little imp?"
She pulls my hair.
"I wondered what tune would you play... and besides, I do smell trouble from you, chelibi. What the hell were you doing in the church? A date with Commodore Norrington? Port Royal isn't a safe place for you."
"We have to talk."
"Ow, what a surprise! You know what? It's you who will confess, and I will listen... and then decide if I should grab a broom and chase you away from my house. I have my road cleared here, and I won't let you ruin my business."
"Oh, come on, Inci, since when does the Spanish Main belong to you?"
"Since you showed up in Naples three years ago and placed us both on the chopping-block, stupid! You still haven't made it up to me for that... Now listen, I can give you some money, if you need it, but I won't soil my hands for you this time, no, no way."
She is looking at me angrily, with her cheeks reddening, and her long eyelashes... what, are they damp?...
I take her little hands that she doesn't wish to soil and close them in mine.
"Shhh, there's nothing to despair about," I say. "I don't want your money, and I don't need your hands to be soiled. Now tell me, why are you crying?"
"No, you tell me what you want from me!"
"Nothing. If you're so scared that you're crying... I didn't come here to destroy your plans. I'll leave you alone and never come back, if you only assure me that you have your future secured..."
"Ritchie, you're an idiot," she says and starts to laugh just a moment before I do. Yes, I can't believe I've said something that stupid to this little devil.
"What about these tears, pray tell me?" I say, wiping her eyes with my sleeve.
She flings her tiny arms around my neck without a word, and I have to remind myself not to squeeze her. It's been such a long time since I've had my only true friend by my side! Ah, how much I've missed this light scent of raisins, this warm sweet breath, this feverish touch... only these tears are something I'd do without.
"What happened? Has anybody hurt you? Whom should I kill?"
"Look at me," she sobs. "I'm bloody pregnant! If you do something stupid, I can't help you! I don't want to lose another baby again, and I don't want to lose you too! Why did you have to come here? You are a wanted criminal, and Port Royal is no London, you can't disappear in a crowd! Ritchie, if you get yourself killed, I swear on my immortal soul, I'll find you whatever circle of hell you're in, and rip your..."
"Shhh, shut up! I'm not going to be killed. I'm not going on account any more. My Captain is dead. I'm not running any risky business here, and I'm leaving Port Royal soon... as soon as I see one little love intrigue happily finished."
"A love intrigue?"
"Uhm... I'm a love angel now, and there's no danger to me in the whole thing. On the contrary, I may earn eternal gratitude from both sides... There's nothing like trouble in it neither to me nor to you, you have my word."
"Ritchie, sweetie, I wouldn't hang a cat on your word."
"I'll tell you everything, and it's up to you to decide if you want to help me. I don't ask for much. I just want you to close your eyes and mouth to certain things."
Inci looks at me suspiciously.
"That's it? Only to keep a secret? You don't need some of this?" she asks, pointing at herself.
"Oh, I have my own resources," I say smiling. "And you're pregnant. You don't have to be nice to anybody, or to touch anybody, or anything. You don't even have to smile at anyone."
She narrows her eyes.
"I can't believe such sweet talk," she says. "I want to know everything, every detail, d'you understand?... But not here. I hate this room. We'll go to the one that has a balcony over the garden."
"Agreed. I don't like it here either."
"I can figure it. I receive only honourable guests here, you know," she says, sighing. "Honourable bores, that is. Swann's friends, the like. It's not a place for you."
The room with a balcony is unmistakably the main quarters, with a huge armchair settled solemnly in the middle, and a very elaborate footstool, both covered with a navy blue velvet. A small baglama is placed in the corner of the armchair, apparently with great care, and there are music scores scattered everywhere: on the two chairs by the window, on the table, on the very cosy bed covered in blue... I smile, looking at Inci; I know that to be able to read scores has been always her most cherished ambition. She answers me with a proud glance. Ah, little devil, but you don't have to read scores, you're one of the best musicians I've ever heard, don't you know this?
"Sit here, please," says Inci generously, pointing at the chair she's just relieved of the whole heap of scores. "Make for it some place on the table, will you? I'll bring you something to eat and drink now, while Sophie is away."
I succeed only partly in cleaning the table, there's too many nutshells, apple cores, biscuits, cake crumbs, a glass of sherry... Inci is back in no time with some pie, meat and cheese.
"Help yourself and eat whatever you want, I'm not hungry... or rather I'm starving to hear about all this love business."
I smile at her, while she is making herself comfortable in the armchair. The frills of her soft deshabilee touch my boots, the light curtain scarcely moving in the weak wind from the jasmine garden touches my neck. I'd feel I was in paradise, if not for these dark, hellish eyes that are watching me with suspicion.
"There must be something that can be done only by me, right?"
"Right, little devil," I say reaching for the pie.
"Well, I guess I have to help you, then... But you see, I'm pregnant. I don't want to see disturbing things, it's not good for the baby, you know. Is there something bloody that's going to happen in your love intrigue?"
I hesitate.
"Aha!" says Inci triumphantly, folding her arms. "You must listen to me now, before I listen to you."
"Speak up."
"I have a list of people that are not to be harmed in this venture of yours, Ritchie. You guarantee that they will be safe or I won't help you."
"Are you mad? I can't work on such terms."
"You can and you will! Don't you dare to refuse a pregnant woman, sweetie."
"Alright. What about this... give me no more than three names, and I'll see what I can do."
"Good. First, there is my old Sophie Gibbs."
"I have no intention of harming her. Um, but listen... can you trust her? Are you sure she isn't the Governor's spy?"
"I was afraid that she was in the beginning," she says. "You know, it'd be only natural if she were. Maybe she was, what the heck!... But I didn't have anybody since my poor Hutton told me that he wanted me to stay with Swann. I mean, he's the Governor, right? I figured out that he's like a gift from heaven for me. I was tired of sailing muddy waters with Hutton, so I decided to play some virtue with Swann. Sophie hadn't had anything to report. And I was nice to her. I was playing for her and listening to her, and it's not an easy thing, because she stutters like hell, mind... and she's wailing all the time about her brother who's a pirate."
"Alright. Who's next on the list?"
"The former Miss Swann. Elizabeth Turner. The Governor's daughter."
"What, do you know her?"
"You won't believe it. She came here to visit me a few days ago. She's really courageous," says Inci, her eyes sparkling with true admiration. "The old pudding, her father, gave me a pearl necklace that once belonged to her deceased mother, you got it, the sentimental value of things, all that..."
"Ah, I see. Did you give it back to her?"
"Of course I didn't," says Inci, scratching her nose. "I have my pride, and besides, she came here as if she had some right to demand anything... maybe she had after all, I just wasn't in a good mood that day... but I took a liking to her, she's honest and strong, and loyal, too. She will get the trifle back, if Swann marries me, or if I leave Port Royal. Rather the latter than the former, though."
I sense a certain tiredness in her voice, her deep dark eyes are suddenly sad; she is looking down, pressing her little feet on the footstool. I put my piece of bread on the table and take her in my arms.
"Hey, Inci, what's happening? You're not yourself, love. Are you not feeling well? You seem to have Swann in your pocket. You told me you have your road cleared. Why this sudden giving up?"
"No, it's nothing," she says, waving her hand impatiently. "I'm just thinking too much, I guess... my hour is coming, and I'm a bit scared. You know, bloody babies... I can't carry them properly. And I'm having second thoughts about Swann. I told his daughter that I like him, but I'm not sure about it any more. I can't stand cowards, and that pudding in a wig is the biggest coward in Port Royal. I can't count on him. I'm wasting my time here, maybe."
"No, you're not," I say. "Don't despair, you're making my heart bleed. I'll help you, we'll bring Swann to his knees, I swear, as soon as we have my work done."
"Oh-oh-oh, don't be so quick! I haven't agreed to anything yet! And Elizabeth is to be put on the protection list, understood?"
"Don't worry, she's safe. Who's the last one?"
Inci blushes all of a sudden.
"Commodore Norrington."
"Wh..."
She closes my mouth with her feverish little hand before I even manage to express my surprise and delight.
"No, listen to me! No harm is to be done to Commodore Norrington, or I won't cooperate, mind you! He's the only gentleman here. I didn't talk to him that much, but he's always been polite and civil and nice to me, and not because of Swann, but because of himself... and he wasn't afraid to lend me his hand today before all the bloody church! I own this man and I want you to spare him, Ritchie, please. I know he's involved in your business, I saw that you two were talking today..."
I take her hand off my face.
"Let me have a word here, will you? I own Norrington as well, Inci. It's him I want to help. It's his love affair."
She leans her hands on my knees, and I see a mix of joy and dismay in her widely opened eyes.
"Really? How come?... But why do you have to help him? There is no woman in Port Royal who'd refuse him, I think, if he woos her... maybe except Elizabeth, and he still loves her. Who is the lady? Is she Spanish or something?"
"That's the problem, Inci. There is no lady here."
She frowns. I look at her without a word, waiting. Her eyes slowly become serious, as the understanding dawns upon her; in this tiny face I see a wise shadow of years passed among secret doors, veils, thick curtains, soft pillows, moonlit terraces of Eastern countries that practice and condone all kinds of love.
"Wait," she whispers. "This is a dangerous business. Nobody should hear it. I'll look downstairs."
She goes out to the staircase and after a moment I hear her piercing scream:
"Soooophie! Are you back?... No, I'm fine, thank you, dear! I think I'll take a nap!... Ah, fruit? No, don't come upstairs..."
She's back rather quickly, with a bowl of delicious Caribbean fruit, and gestures at me to shut the door.
"We're safe," she says. "Her brother is there, they will talk their bowels out now. Nice fellow, her brother."
I sigh.
"I know him," I say. "Jolly old liar. He'd run out of here screaming if he knew that I'm upstairs."
"Why? Does he have anything to do with Norrington's affair?... No, wait... do you mean it's HIM?"
"Awww, Inci!..."
"Alright, sweetie, you tell me everything right now or I'll think that you've gone mad. Or did I misunderstand you? Is the Commodore in love with a man? And if he is..."
"You understood me right, little devil, and the man is Gibbs' captain."
Inci looks at me with her mouth open, and her eyes wildly search for a hidden smile in my eyes.
"I must pinch myself or something," she murmurs. "I must be sleeping. Or you are sick. Do you know what you are talking about? That pirate, Jack Sparrow, and Commodore Norrington? An officer of the Royal Navy and a pirate? If you're just playing with me, Ritchie Brown, you're already dead."
"I swear I'm telling you the truth and only the truth. Like at a confession. Listen, Inci, nobody knows this, only you and me. I came back to the Spanish Main a few months ago. I just found out that my Captain is dead. I didn't have any money, I didn't have any weapon, and I was ill. I was sitting in the Red Stocking, completely at a loss what to do, and then I saw Norrington, or rather his pistol, and a girl that wanted to steal his money. I rescued his money, because I wanted to steal his pistol... which I did. He, in turn, bought me a meal and spared my life - there were his officers in the tavern, and he knew that I'm branded and should be arrested, but he didn't do anything."
"Why?"
"Because I reminded him of Sparrow. I was probably the only man who resembled a pirate there."
"You reminded him of Sparrow? Did he tell you that?"
"Well, it wasn't that hard to guess."
"To guess? You have no evidence! Ritchie, look at those decent men here! They don't sleep with other men that easily, they have all this Bible thing, and especially Commodore Norrington..."
"Hey, little devil, stop reading me a sermon. I kissed him and he kissed me back."
She blinks several times and bursts out laughing.
"Alright," she says, slapping her thighs, "I give up. You made Norrington kiss you? Gawd, you are a Jezebel in trousers!"
"Pot, meet kettle," I murmur.
"Oh, I'm pretty faithful to my old pudding."
"You were, till today."
"Don't you be so sure, Ritchie Brown. I've been a decent girl recently."
"I was in the church longer than you," I say, laughing.
"Only to meet the Commodore, right? Oh, does he know you're a Catholic?"
"Does Swann know you're an Orthodox?"
"Awww, I'm so scared! And you will tell him that?"
"No, I won't, if you help Norrington and me with Sparrow."
"But what should I do?"
"The first problem is that both of them are too scared to ever think of meeting. I know their feelings are mutual, but they're still denying them. This problem can easily be dealt with, but the next problem is that Sparrow is a wanted man, and the whole thing smells fishy to him, because it's me who told him about Norrington's feelings, and he doesn't trust me."
"What a surprise," Inci observes. "I somehow can't think of anybody who would trust you... except for me, sometimes."
"Ah, thank you, love. But there is a serious reason behind his distrust. He knows that I'm Captain Barbossa's man, and he suspects that I want my revenge."
"And you don't?" Inci whispers.
"I don't know," I say.
"If you want Norrington happy, you can't have your revenge."
"I don't know where Norrington's happiness is," I say quietly. "If he wants to have Sparrow, he can have him. If he wants to be a Commodore, he can hang him. If the latter is the case, I will have my revenge."
"And how do you plan to make them meet?"
"I must force Sparrow to come here, and Gibbs is the only bait I can use. Sparrow is in Tortuga, waiting for Gibbs to come back, because they are going to sail to Cancun. Now, Gibbs will not come back, but Sparrow will have to come for him."
"Very well. Are you sure he will?"
"Gibbs is his old friend, and Sparrow is what people call 'a good man'. He saved Governor's daughter from drowning, he went to rescue her, he went to rescue her fiance. He will come here to rescue Gibbs, and Gibbs is not to leave this house."
"It won't work. He knows that Sophie lives here, and it will only be a matter of time till he finds this place."
"Don't worry, Sophie will have no clue where her brother is. And I will make Sparrow believe that if he doesn't come to Port Royal to meet Norrington, Gibbs will be handed over to the authorities and hanged as a deserter. He will have no choice but to believe me; he knows I'm capable of the worst."
"And you want me as a warder?"
"As a warder, a cook and a doctor."
Inci shakes her head.
"And you?"
"And I will be a messenger and go to Tortuga to negotiate."
"Allah akillar versin!"
This sharp exclamation, "where is your reason?", is like a slap to my face; Inci, as always when she's upset, starts to talk in jargon - in that strange mix of Armenian, Greek, Turkish, Arabic and Jewish that is used widely by prostitutes, thugs and thieves of the Levant.
"This is the stupidest plan that I've ever heard about! Do you think you can do it all alone? I can't help you much, I told you that already! Do you think you can outwit Sparrow, who has his crew on the Black Pearl, his mates in Tortuga, his friends in Port Royal?! Only two of us against them? You, a wanted criminal, a former mate of Barbossa that so many people still hate, and me, with a belly up my nose? We can't even meet each other freely! Your Captain was cunning and wise and what not - and it's him who got killed, not Sparrow! And he had all his crew with him and was immortal! And you think you can win, stupid? If you get killed in Tortuga, what the hell will I do... now, when we've just met?!"
"Oh, Inci, shut up! Nobody is going to be killed. And yes, I think I can win if I play my cards carefully. I have my head..."
"You have a head, so has a pin!"
"Sparrow is only a man," I say quietly. "And we know his weak spot, while he doesn't know ours. He won't even be able to connect us."
"Ritchie, don't... you can't beat him now. Wait till I have a baby... we'll think up something."
"He's going to Cancun soon, and we have Gibbs. He must rise to this fly, Inci, and there'll be no better opportunity to catch him. If you don't want to help me, so be it..."
"Ssssh!" she says, standing up and looking at the door. In the sudden silence we hear a shy creak of the wooden stairs.
"Stay here," orders Inci. I stay, of course, where I am. I have no place to hide.
"What is it, Sophie?" she asks in a lazy voice, sticking her head through the door; she's pretending she was asleep.
"T-the Governor's carriage is downstairs, Miss Isabella."
"Really? Go and help him undress."
I stand from my chair, when Inci shuts the door.
"Damn," she hisses, opening her wardrobe, "he'll be here in a moment. You can't leave the room, he'll see you in the corridor. Come in here, sweetie, and be careful, there could be pins in some of the dresses..."
"Give me my hat, will you?"
"Here you are. Take the food too... but don't eat... and here's your lute. What a bloody old libertine! He should be dining with his family now, it's Sunday afternoon, for God's sake! He's lost all his sense of decency!"
"Well, it's good news," I say, making a nice place for myself among Inci's gowns that smell nicely of raisins and rice poudre. "We don't need him to be decent, right? There's still a chance he'll make you Mrs Swann, then."
"No, I don't think so," she says, waving her hand with resignation. "He's rotten enough to stink, but not enough to enrich the soil. Everything is halfway in him, and he's a coward... oh, there he is, I can hear him. Alright, you now be quiet and wait while I deal with him. I wonder what he wants... I smell something unpleasant here. I hope he didn't get wind of you."
"Inci, love, have mercy on me, please. I can't be locked here forever, it's hot as hell, and your bloody poudre..."
"Oh, shut up, pirate," she says closing the wardrobe's door. "Suffer, and your reward will be great... but don't sneeze, or I'll kill you."
I sit down with my head in the tender folds of Inci's dresses; fortunately enough, I have nearly a full view of the room from between the door's leaves. I can see Inci making herself comfortable on the armchair, with her lips puffed-out and eyelids heavy from the feigned sleepiness; she sticks out her tongue and winks at me, when we hear a short and surprisingly shy knock at the door, and becomes motionless again, just in the moment when the Governor comes in.
He's a big and tall man in his fifties, it seems, but despite his elegant clothes, his elaborate wig and his dandylike cane, he looks neither powerful nor sure of himself. He stands before Inci like a cadet before his general, begging her acceptance with his round, anxious eyes - and he beams with sudden joy, when she smiles at him.
"Please, take a seat," she invites him in a languid, childlike voice, waving her hand at the chair I was sitting in before.
He lands his big butt in the chair, visibly relieved to see that she's in a good mood. Inci doesn't move, watching him lazily from amongst her frills and laces, like a little dragon in a Chinese temple.
"Isabella, my dear, I admit it's very unlike of me to visit you so unexpectedly," he starts talking very fast, no doubt unnerved by her silence, "but, I was very worried about you... you left the church before the Mass' end. How are you... ekhm..."
His voice trails off, his eyes wander elsewhere. I follow them to pass the slightly risen curtain of Inci's nightgown, just to see these nonchalantly crossed, slender ankles, and these miniature feet in shiny silk stockings, caressing the soft velvet of the footstool. Hey, you powderpuff, take your eyes off them, they're mine!...
"... How are you feeling?..."
Damn you, Governor, I'm not feeling well here, if you ask me.
Inci smiles weakly and sweetly.
"Oh, thank you, Weatherby dear," she says closing her eyes a little. "To tell the truth, I felt ill... it's because of the heat, no doubt. I thought that I'd feel better after a nap, but it didn't help me. Perhaps I should go to bed, but you were so nice as to come..."
"By no means you should pay any attention to me," he says hastily, "if you... ekhm... if you'd like to go to bed, maybe I could help you..."
I smile to myself, remembering that Inci likes to sleep naked.
"Ah, don't be so eager to help me, my big wig," she says, suddenly opening her eyes wide and leaning forward in her armchair. "I'm so happy to see you here! You never come on Sundays, it's only in church that I can look at you..."
He looks at her with such gratitude I suddenly feel sorry for him, and he takes her skinny fingers into his plump white hands.
"I had to come and see you," he murmurs, strangely ashamed.
"Oh, I knew you'd come," Inci whispers, grabbing him softly by his heavy coat and pulling him close to her. "Look, I sent Sophie for fresh fruit, and she was just in time. Isn't it wonderful? I feel so lonely on Sundays, and today - what a surprise!..."
Then she entwines the end of his white cravat round her finger and pulls him even closer, touching her forehead to his.
"When I saw you in this wig today," she whispers with a catlike purr, "just imagine what I was thinking about!... Don't you want to play it again, my little naughty Miss Swann?"
The Governor turns pale, then reddens, looks around, then looks into Inci's huge dark eyes as if looking there for his reason that has just left him.
"But... my dear child, you are... you were feeling unwell..." he murmurs like a broken musical box that tries to recall its last melody.
She is pretending that she doesn't hear him and continues, sticking her fingers in the buttonholes of his coat:
"It was delightful, I really loved it... mmm, I will be your big gentleman in a wig... your great Governor... or your brave Commodore, hm?... And you'll be an innocent milkmaid this time..."
She draws her sharp finger across his right cheek; he catches and kisses her hand, closing his eyes.
"Or am I too heavy for you now, what do you think?..." she asks with a playful smile.
I nearly hit my head on the wardrobe door. Wait, Inci, you little devil!...
"Surely not, Is... Isabella, my dearest... you are so nice to me, I... I..."
"You want to tell me something, don't you, my poor dear?..."
He is looking at her with suddenly guilty eyes.
"Now, now, what is it? You know you can tell me everything. I can feel that something is bothering you, Weatherby darling. Please, tell your Isabella what's wrong," she says taking his face in her hands.
"No, nothing," he murmurs, stroking her forearms, with his eyes deep in her cleavage. "It's nothing, I swear... Let's send Sophie for some wine, my dear. I can see now that I was mistaken."
Inci draws herself back a little.
"You are hiding things away from me," she says in a tenderly patient tone. "You know that it saddens me more than listening about some unpleasant gossip. Don't be afraid to tell me what it was."
He draws nearer to her.
"It's really unworthy of mentioning, and I can see now that I was... I was wrong."
"You were wrong in what, dear? We have a whole Sunday afternoon for us! Just tell me what it was, we will laugh, and proceed to nicer things," she says with her sweet smile, tapping his nose with her finger.
"It was foolish of me to listen," he says, kissing her hand again. "Will you forgive me?"
She places his hands on her lap, watching him for a while, and then nods slowly at her thoughts.
"You don't need to say anything," she says plainly, with a deep sigh. "I don't want to forgive you anything, dear."
"No, no, I must confess that. I... I came here, because I had to face a terrible supposition. I was told that you... that some young man has been paying you visits recently."
Inci blinks.
"What?" she says sharply. "A young man?"
"It's nothing! I know... I'm convinced it's a lie. I don't... I didn't believe it in the slightest."
Inci stands up from her armchair and goes to the window, scratching her nose and furrowing her brows. The Governor watches her helplessly from his chair, leaning back promptly, when she turns over to look at him.
"You believed it, my poor, poor Weatherby," she says in her childlike voice, full of pity.
"Never!... Not even for a moment..."
"Why did you come here, then?" she asks, shaking her head. "When I believed that you finally gathered your courage to visit me on Sunday... and you just wanted to make sure if I'm not hiding a lover in this wardrobe... oh, it makes me sick!..."
"Isabella!..."
"No, my big Governor, you must get your reward for such a brave exploit," she says, walking around the room angrily, not looking at him; her voice is full of pain and sarcasm. "You left your honourable family to see your kept woman on the Lord's Day!... Where will you start? The bed? The wardrobe? I suggest the balcony, the air outside is so fresh... go and cool yourself... and I will search under the armchair."
He clings to her nightgown, but his hands shake, unable to hold the frills. She stops unexpectedly and places her hands on his head.
"You see," she says, her voice soft and tender again, "I don't care about myself, but I can't stand you hurting yourself so badly. I'm a nobody, but you have your position in society, both as a gentleman and as a governor. Just imagine what the people of Port Royal would do without you? Commodore Norrington wouldn't have defeated Barbossa's pirates, were it not for your help. It's you who restored peace to these waters, and you can't find peace for yourself, because you're so kind and confiding!... You believe in whatever others have to say! Oh, my poor dear..."
She hides her face in her hands and turns away, but he doesn't allow her to go, falling on his knees clumsily and embracing her legs.
"Isabella, my love, I was a fool!... How could I... what should I..."
"Ah, let me sit down, please," she says fanning herself with a sleeve. "It's only pathetic laughable gossip, like that one about me picking herbs on the cemetery!... It was definitely the funniest, don't you think?..."
He laughs with her.
"We won't talk about it anymore," continues Inci sweetly, "I just wonder what he looks like, that young man..."
"Ah... I was told that he has curly brown hair, and seems to be very agile and clever."
"Hmmm," says Inci thoughtfully, "I don't know who told you all that, my little Weatherby, and frankly speaking, I don't care... except for that it's surely someone who doesn't wish you well... but I do have some idea who that young man may be."
The Governor frowns.
"Is there anybody annoying you, my child?"
"Oh, I'm not sure, but... you know this person well, Governor," she says narrowing her eyes.
"Who is that?!"
"I am really not so sure, and I don't want you to be too harsh to him... just keep your eye on him, my dear, and you will see your daughter happy again and your family peace restored, I promise you."
"Dear God... do you mean it is William Turner?!"
Inci nods sadly.
"I've seen him around my villa a few times," she says with her eyes downcast. "I didn't want to tell you that, but it's been bothering me recently... your daughter came to visit me not because of that pearl necklace, but because she suspected that Mr Turner might be interested in me... This young woman is really bright!... I was feeling so bad about her, so guilty... I couldn't help her much, but... Didn't you tell me how happy she was when she was back?... The only thing I could do was to assure her that it's you and only you that I really care about..."
"He will regret that!..."
"Oh, no, Weatherby dear, don't scare me!" she exclaims. "I may be wrong! I don't want to accuse an innocent man, and there must be many young gentlemen with curly brown hair... I'm sure nobody can be as agile and frisky as Mr Turner, who's such a fine swordsman... but it'd do him good if he pays more attention to his sweet wife, and not to drinking and debauchery in the club. You're an experienced man, my dear, and you know high society and its dangers too well to fall into bad company, but Mr Turner is young and naive... oh..."
She presses her hand to the forehead.
"What is wrong, Isabella, darling?" asks the Governor with a genuine anxiety.
"Oh, I don't know... I feel so dizzy!... Oh..."
"I will call Sophie! Maybe she should run for the doctor?..."
"No, no, it's nothing... I suppose I'm just very tired. I've been talking too much, and I was so worried about you... your hands were trembling!... Oh, I will just lie down for a while..."
"I'm such an insensitive fool, forgive me, my dearest. You should go to sleep, I won't bother you anymore... I'd better go home and talk to my son-in-law."
"And what will you tell him?... No, my poor Weatherby, you must have some proof. I could be mistaken about all that... and you cannot simply go back from my house and start reading sermons, or he will think you're as immoral as him. Eat a Sunday dinner with your family and just watch Mr Turner... discreetly."
"You're so right, Isabella, my dearest," he says, kissing Inci's hand. "I will come tomorrow, in the evening, if I may."
Inci smiles with her sleepy eyes and watches him go out of the room, then listens to his footsteps on the staircase, opens the door to listen to the sound of his carriage, closes the door and leans on it with a sigh.
"What drudgery," she says, "I'm hungry like a wolf. Come here with all the food!"
I open my wardrobe, catch Inci in my arms and carry her to the bed.
"What are you doing? I said I'm hungry!"
"All right, we'll eat in bed!"
"No way, I hate crumbs on my sheets."
"I'll clean it all, I promise."
"Go away, Ritchie, you're all covered in poudre."
"It's your poudre!... Or is it Swann's? Does he like to wear your dresses?"
"Are you jealous, sweetie?... He's too bloody fat to wear my dresses."
"You were wearing his wig. Oh, I'd love to see you in it! Did it stop on the tip of your nose or on the neck?"
"Give me the pie. And the pillow... no, not this one, that big one. And stop talking about Swann, I had enough of him today."
"Your wish is my order, love. Just one more thing. How is he in bed?"
Inci laughs, throwing her shoes across the room.
"Sweet, sweet, sweet... and greasy. Like a pudding. And a coward."
"In bed?"
"Aye, in bed. Just imagine, he's afraid to make love to me, because I'm pregnant. Didn't want to hurt the baby, you know. I had to work on him for months, and my belly was growing and growing, and his fear was growing and growing... would be funny, if I weren't that starved."
"I promise you, little devil, you'll starve no more."
"I'm not sure if I need you here. You heard all this rubbish about yourself."
"I'll be really careful... Do you have an idea who the spy is?"
"It may be Elizabeth's maid. I don't think it's Sophie... Anyway, I don't care about this lover business, I'm worried about all that business of Norrington's love affair. It sounds too dangerous to me."
"So you won't help me?"
"Who said that I won't? I'm worried about it and it sounds dangerous, therefore I'll help you."
"Oh, Inci, my little pearl!..."
"But not for free, mind you," she says with a smug smile.
"Not for free?..."
"No money, no Swiss, sweetie."
"I have no money, love."
"Oh, you must have something of value."
"Something of value, you say?... Alright, little devil, you have my hands, my lips, my tongue, and the whole of my body. From now on I am ready to do your bidding, gladly and without delay, whenever and wherever you want, in whichever way you want."
"We have an accord," she says, laughing. "Where are you staying in Port Royal?"
"In the Red Stocking."
"Very well. You're not going back tonight, understood?"
"I'm yours to command."
I don't know when the evening comes, I don't know if the night follows, and I don't care. The little room becomes the whole world for us, we find new paths, new horizons, new wonders. I am reminded again how mighty and beautiful is my little devil when she has two hearts beating inside her, how delightful is to watch her body effloresce; Inci discovers on my body scars that are unknown to her, and she laughs listening to their history, because there's no reason to weep - we cheated death and oblivion, we are united once again.
I cover her with a silken sheet in the morning, kiss her forehead that's glistering with sweat, and place her tired hands on the pillow. According to her orders, I am to come back tomorrow, after making sure that Swann is gone.
I jump off the balcony, congratulating myself on the villa's insignificant height, and cursing the jasmine bush I've landed in. The garden is full of morning dew and I sigh happily, feeling all this freshness. Another Caribbean morning that brings me closer to my goal.
The tiredness overwhelms me, when I climb the stinking staircase of the Red Stocking. Ah, I need sleep so badly. I can't believe that in such a short time I managed to sleep with Fat Elsie, to meet Norrington, to hear the Mass, then to meet Inci and spend the whole night under her sweet tyranny. I'm a bloody saint, if there ever was one.
I close the door of my dusty little room, yawning, when I feel a barrel of a gun on my back and I hear a quiet order:
"Hands up. Slowly. Put them on the wall. No, don't even try to turn around."
tbc
A/N: 1) Tatavla and Pera are, like Galata which was mentioned in the previous chapter, districts of Istanbul inhabited mainly by Greeks; Tatavla doesn't exist any more, though, for it was burned to the ground and renamed Kurtulus in 1928. 2) the transcription of "Morena me yaman" isn't a mistake, it's Ladino, not Spanish. 3) 'chelibi' is a Ladino word, meaning roughly 'sir, master'.
I'd like to thank all my lovely reviewers for their kindness and support.
III
I can't see any shadow on my horizon and I'm beginning to worry. Everything is happening too easily for me: I probably managed to convince Norrington to come to the Red Stocking, I escaped arrest once again, I met Inci here... then I discovered that Gibbs' sister is her servant. It's truly frightening to have one's way smoothed like a tablecloth, for it too often leads into a pit.
But how can I worry now, sitting on the wall of the abandoned house, watching Inci's white villa with its green shutters wide open? They are open for me and the house will soon open as well. The sun is hot as hell, but seems just friendly-warm to me, the headache-inducing scent of the wild flowers in the dark unkempt garden seems just sweet and tender, nothing more. The world is on my side.
I've left Gibbs in the Red Stocking with little Jimmy. So far, all he knows is that his sister is at church with her mistress. Good for me, I have some time to worm my way into the house before Gibbs comes here.
I must be careful not to expose Inci to the Governor's jealousy, for I don't know a thing about old Sophie - is she the Governor's spy, or is she loyal to her lady? I cannot just knock at the gate and ask if Mlle Dou would see me. Fortunately, we have our way to let one of us know of the other's presence.
The street is empty, people aren't back from the Sunday service yet. There is a strained silence here, waiting only for me to break it. And break it I do, taking my lute and tapping its box, before I start playing "Ehe geia panagia", a song that serves us for a sign saying "I'm here".
I don't sing, I just play the tune -- both of us know that "it's raining in Galata and it's pouring in Tatavla, the queen among girls is the girl dressed in black. I'll drink wine in Galata, but I'll get drunk in Pera..." Since we met once in Galata, we kept running into one another, and Inci taught me that song, but it was me who was always playing it, if only to make her laugh -- the great Istanbul seemed so small to my little devil and me that time...
I can't help a laugh when I hear the sudden sound of shutters furiously closed. Aha!... You're relieved to see that I'm alive, but you're mad at me as well? But I can't go away like this, we have to talk and to celebrate this little reunion of ours - you never know, maybe it will result in some mutual benefit - but I see that in order to convince you, love, I have to change the song.
"D'akeyas ventanikas m'arrondjan fletchas,
si son de amores, vengan,
vengan derechas."
I'd bet you still remember this dreamlike, longing tune - "from these windows arrows are shot at me, but if it's out of love, the better, the better..." It was me who taught you this one, in turn, as it's a song about you - a true jewel that is hidden in muddy waters and visible only to those who can look deeper than the surface.
This time it's not the sound of shutters being closed that I hear, but the sweet noise of the gate being opened - and it's not the modest figure of old Sophie clad in grey that's greeting me, no, it's my olive-skinned little treasure, all in the silken frills and laces of her soft white peignoir. Her tarry eyes shine, her cherry lips glow, her long dark tresses seem to live - there she is, my enraged and moved and confused Inci, a true spark of hellfire.
She stands in the gate for a moment, waiting for me to jump down from the garden wall, then she grabs my sleeve and drags me unceremoniously inside the house.
"Damn you, Ritchie Brown!" she says.
"Inci, love, don't worry, I know who you are. I bring no trouble for the Governor's lady, I promise."
"Run upstairs, quickly. I've sent Sophie for some fruit, we're alone, but you've to be careful. Her brother will come here soon."
"I know, I know. Where are you going?"
"I'll bring some wine."
"Oh, not now! Stay with me! We still have time."
"What are you doing?!"
"I'm carrying you upstairs. Hold the lute."
"Are you mad? I'm pregnant!"
"That's why I'm carrying you upstairs. Now shut up."
"Ritchie, sweetie! Are you drunk already?"
"Kiss me and you'll find out."
"Mmmm... oh, you're sober!"
"I'm more innocent than this little baby inside of you. I've been to church today, milady."
"I know."
I sit her on a big sofa in the first room upstairs. It's a strangely dusty, unfriendly place, despite all its curtains, pictures and soft furniture. A crumpled handkerchief, forgotten on the virginal, is the only sign that the place is sometimes used.
"You saw me in the church?"
"Sure I did," she says proudly, fanning herself with my hat. "Why would I send Sophie away? I don't need no bloody fruit. I knew you would come."
"So tell me, why didn't you let me in at once, you little imp?"
She pulls my hair.
"I wondered what tune would you play... and besides, I do smell trouble from you, chelibi. What the hell were you doing in the church? A date with Commodore Norrington? Port Royal isn't a safe place for you."
"We have to talk."
"Ow, what a surprise! You know what? It's you who will confess, and I will listen... and then decide if I should grab a broom and chase you away from my house. I have my road cleared here, and I won't let you ruin my business."
"Oh, come on, Inci, since when does the Spanish Main belong to you?"
"Since you showed up in Naples three years ago and placed us both on the chopping-block, stupid! You still haven't made it up to me for that... Now listen, I can give you some money, if you need it, but I won't soil my hands for you this time, no, no way."
She is looking at me angrily, with her cheeks reddening, and her long eyelashes... what, are they damp?...
I take her little hands that she doesn't wish to soil and close them in mine.
"Shhh, there's nothing to despair about," I say. "I don't want your money, and I don't need your hands to be soiled. Now tell me, why are you crying?"
"No, you tell me what you want from me!"
"Nothing. If you're so scared that you're crying... I didn't come here to destroy your plans. I'll leave you alone and never come back, if you only assure me that you have your future secured..."
"Ritchie, you're an idiot," she says and starts to laugh just a moment before I do. Yes, I can't believe I've said something that stupid to this little devil.
"What about these tears, pray tell me?" I say, wiping her eyes with my sleeve.
She flings her tiny arms around my neck without a word, and I have to remind myself not to squeeze her. It's been such a long time since I've had my only true friend by my side! Ah, how much I've missed this light scent of raisins, this warm sweet breath, this feverish touch... only these tears are something I'd do without.
"What happened? Has anybody hurt you? Whom should I kill?"
"Look at me," she sobs. "I'm bloody pregnant! If you do something stupid, I can't help you! I don't want to lose another baby again, and I don't want to lose you too! Why did you have to come here? You are a wanted criminal, and Port Royal is no London, you can't disappear in a crowd! Ritchie, if you get yourself killed, I swear on my immortal soul, I'll find you whatever circle of hell you're in, and rip your..."
"Shhh, shut up! I'm not going to be killed. I'm not going on account any more. My Captain is dead. I'm not running any risky business here, and I'm leaving Port Royal soon... as soon as I see one little love intrigue happily finished."
"A love intrigue?"
"Uhm... I'm a love angel now, and there's no danger to me in the whole thing. On the contrary, I may earn eternal gratitude from both sides... There's nothing like trouble in it neither to me nor to you, you have my word."
"Ritchie, sweetie, I wouldn't hang a cat on your word."
"I'll tell you everything, and it's up to you to decide if you want to help me. I don't ask for much. I just want you to close your eyes and mouth to certain things."
Inci looks at me suspiciously.
"That's it? Only to keep a secret? You don't need some of this?" she asks, pointing at herself.
"Oh, I have my own resources," I say smiling. "And you're pregnant. You don't have to be nice to anybody, or to touch anybody, or anything. You don't even have to smile at anyone."
She narrows her eyes.
"I can't believe such sweet talk," she says. "I want to know everything, every detail, d'you understand?... But not here. I hate this room. We'll go to the one that has a balcony over the garden."
"Agreed. I don't like it here either."
"I can figure it. I receive only honourable guests here, you know," she says, sighing. "Honourable bores, that is. Swann's friends, the like. It's not a place for you."
The room with a balcony is unmistakably the main quarters, with a huge armchair settled solemnly in the middle, and a very elaborate footstool, both covered with a navy blue velvet. A small baglama is placed in the corner of the armchair, apparently with great care, and there are music scores scattered everywhere: on the two chairs by the window, on the table, on the very cosy bed covered in blue... I smile, looking at Inci; I know that to be able to read scores has been always her most cherished ambition. She answers me with a proud glance. Ah, little devil, but you don't have to read scores, you're one of the best musicians I've ever heard, don't you know this?
"Sit here, please," says Inci generously, pointing at the chair she's just relieved of the whole heap of scores. "Make for it some place on the table, will you? I'll bring you something to eat and drink now, while Sophie is away."
I succeed only partly in cleaning the table, there's too many nutshells, apple cores, biscuits, cake crumbs, a glass of sherry... Inci is back in no time with some pie, meat and cheese.
"Help yourself and eat whatever you want, I'm not hungry... or rather I'm starving to hear about all this love business."
I smile at her, while she is making herself comfortable in the armchair. The frills of her soft deshabilee touch my boots, the light curtain scarcely moving in the weak wind from the jasmine garden touches my neck. I'd feel I was in paradise, if not for these dark, hellish eyes that are watching me with suspicion.
"There must be something that can be done only by me, right?"
"Right, little devil," I say reaching for the pie.
"Well, I guess I have to help you, then... But you see, I'm pregnant. I don't want to see disturbing things, it's not good for the baby, you know. Is there something bloody that's going to happen in your love intrigue?"
I hesitate.
"Aha!" says Inci triumphantly, folding her arms. "You must listen to me now, before I listen to you."
"Speak up."
"I have a list of people that are not to be harmed in this venture of yours, Ritchie. You guarantee that they will be safe or I won't help you."
"Are you mad? I can't work on such terms."
"You can and you will! Don't you dare to refuse a pregnant woman, sweetie."
"Alright. What about this... give me no more than three names, and I'll see what I can do."
"Good. First, there is my old Sophie Gibbs."
"I have no intention of harming her. Um, but listen... can you trust her? Are you sure she isn't the Governor's spy?"
"I was afraid that she was in the beginning," she says. "You know, it'd be only natural if she were. Maybe she was, what the heck!... But I didn't have anybody since my poor Hutton told me that he wanted me to stay with Swann. I mean, he's the Governor, right? I figured out that he's like a gift from heaven for me. I was tired of sailing muddy waters with Hutton, so I decided to play some virtue with Swann. Sophie hadn't had anything to report. And I was nice to her. I was playing for her and listening to her, and it's not an easy thing, because she stutters like hell, mind... and she's wailing all the time about her brother who's a pirate."
"Alright. Who's next on the list?"
"The former Miss Swann. Elizabeth Turner. The Governor's daughter."
"What, do you know her?"
"You won't believe it. She came here to visit me a few days ago. She's really courageous," says Inci, her eyes sparkling with true admiration. "The old pudding, her father, gave me a pearl necklace that once belonged to her deceased mother, you got it, the sentimental value of things, all that..."
"Ah, I see. Did you give it back to her?"
"Of course I didn't," says Inci, scratching her nose. "I have my pride, and besides, she came here as if she had some right to demand anything... maybe she had after all, I just wasn't in a good mood that day... but I took a liking to her, she's honest and strong, and loyal, too. She will get the trifle back, if Swann marries me, or if I leave Port Royal. Rather the latter than the former, though."
I sense a certain tiredness in her voice, her deep dark eyes are suddenly sad; she is looking down, pressing her little feet on the footstool. I put my piece of bread on the table and take her in my arms.
"Hey, Inci, what's happening? You're not yourself, love. Are you not feeling well? You seem to have Swann in your pocket. You told me you have your road cleared. Why this sudden giving up?"
"No, it's nothing," she says, waving her hand impatiently. "I'm just thinking too much, I guess... my hour is coming, and I'm a bit scared. You know, bloody babies... I can't carry them properly. And I'm having second thoughts about Swann. I told his daughter that I like him, but I'm not sure about it any more. I can't stand cowards, and that pudding in a wig is the biggest coward in Port Royal. I can't count on him. I'm wasting my time here, maybe."
"No, you're not," I say. "Don't despair, you're making my heart bleed. I'll help you, we'll bring Swann to his knees, I swear, as soon as we have my work done."
"Oh-oh-oh, don't be so quick! I haven't agreed to anything yet! And Elizabeth is to be put on the protection list, understood?"
"Don't worry, she's safe. Who's the last one?"
Inci blushes all of a sudden.
"Commodore Norrington."
"Wh..."
She closes my mouth with her feverish little hand before I even manage to express my surprise and delight.
"No, listen to me! No harm is to be done to Commodore Norrington, or I won't cooperate, mind you! He's the only gentleman here. I didn't talk to him that much, but he's always been polite and civil and nice to me, and not because of Swann, but because of himself... and he wasn't afraid to lend me his hand today before all the bloody church! I own this man and I want you to spare him, Ritchie, please. I know he's involved in your business, I saw that you two were talking today..."
I take her hand off my face.
"Let me have a word here, will you? I own Norrington as well, Inci. It's him I want to help. It's his love affair."
She leans her hands on my knees, and I see a mix of joy and dismay in her widely opened eyes.
"Really? How come?... But why do you have to help him? There is no woman in Port Royal who'd refuse him, I think, if he woos her... maybe except Elizabeth, and he still loves her. Who is the lady? Is she Spanish or something?"
"That's the problem, Inci. There is no lady here."
She frowns. I look at her without a word, waiting. Her eyes slowly become serious, as the understanding dawns upon her; in this tiny face I see a wise shadow of years passed among secret doors, veils, thick curtains, soft pillows, moonlit terraces of Eastern countries that practice and condone all kinds of love.
"Wait," she whispers. "This is a dangerous business. Nobody should hear it. I'll look downstairs."
She goes out to the staircase and after a moment I hear her piercing scream:
"Soooophie! Are you back?... No, I'm fine, thank you, dear! I think I'll take a nap!... Ah, fruit? No, don't come upstairs..."
She's back rather quickly, with a bowl of delicious Caribbean fruit, and gestures at me to shut the door.
"We're safe," she says. "Her brother is there, they will talk their bowels out now. Nice fellow, her brother."
I sigh.
"I know him," I say. "Jolly old liar. He'd run out of here screaming if he knew that I'm upstairs."
"Why? Does he have anything to do with Norrington's affair?... No, wait... do you mean it's HIM?"
"Awww, Inci!..."
"Alright, sweetie, you tell me everything right now or I'll think that you've gone mad. Or did I misunderstand you? Is the Commodore in love with a man? And if he is..."
"You understood me right, little devil, and the man is Gibbs' captain."
Inci looks at me with her mouth open, and her eyes wildly search for a hidden smile in my eyes.
"I must pinch myself or something," she murmurs. "I must be sleeping. Or you are sick. Do you know what you are talking about? That pirate, Jack Sparrow, and Commodore Norrington? An officer of the Royal Navy and a pirate? If you're just playing with me, Ritchie Brown, you're already dead."
"I swear I'm telling you the truth and only the truth. Like at a confession. Listen, Inci, nobody knows this, only you and me. I came back to the Spanish Main a few months ago. I just found out that my Captain is dead. I didn't have any money, I didn't have any weapon, and I was ill. I was sitting in the Red Stocking, completely at a loss what to do, and then I saw Norrington, or rather his pistol, and a girl that wanted to steal his money. I rescued his money, because I wanted to steal his pistol... which I did. He, in turn, bought me a meal and spared my life - there were his officers in the tavern, and he knew that I'm branded and should be arrested, but he didn't do anything."
"Why?"
"Because I reminded him of Sparrow. I was probably the only man who resembled a pirate there."
"You reminded him of Sparrow? Did he tell you that?"
"Well, it wasn't that hard to guess."
"To guess? You have no evidence! Ritchie, look at those decent men here! They don't sleep with other men that easily, they have all this Bible thing, and especially Commodore Norrington..."
"Hey, little devil, stop reading me a sermon. I kissed him and he kissed me back."
She blinks several times and bursts out laughing.
"Alright," she says, slapping her thighs, "I give up. You made Norrington kiss you? Gawd, you are a Jezebel in trousers!"
"Pot, meet kettle," I murmur.
"Oh, I'm pretty faithful to my old pudding."
"You were, till today."
"Don't you be so sure, Ritchie Brown. I've been a decent girl recently."
"I was in the church longer than you," I say, laughing.
"Only to meet the Commodore, right? Oh, does he know you're a Catholic?"
"Does Swann know you're an Orthodox?"
"Awww, I'm so scared! And you will tell him that?"
"No, I won't, if you help Norrington and me with Sparrow."
"But what should I do?"
"The first problem is that both of them are too scared to ever think of meeting. I know their feelings are mutual, but they're still denying them. This problem can easily be dealt with, but the next problem is that Sparrow is a wanted man, and the whole thing smells fishy to him, because it's me who told him about Norrington's feelings, and he doesn't trust me."
"What a surprise," Inci observes. "I somehow can't think of anybody who would trust you... except for me, sometimes."
"Ah, thank you, love. But there is a serious reason behind his distrust. He knows that I'm Captain Barbossa's man, and he suspects that I want my revenge."
"And you don't?" Inci whispers.
"I don't know," I say.
"If you want Norrington happy, you can't have your revenge."
"I don't know where Norrington's happiness is," I say quietly. "If he wants to have Sparrow, he can have him. If he wants to be a Commodore, he can hang him. If the latter is the case, I will have my revenge."
"And how do you plan to make them meet?"
"I must force Sparrow to come here, and Gibbs is the only bait I can use. Sparrow is in Tortuga, waiting for Gibbs to come back, because they are going to sail to Cancun. Now, Gibbs will not come back, but Sparrow will have to come for him."
"Very well. Are you sure he will?"
"Gibbs is his old friend, and Sparrow is what people call 'a good man'. He saved Governor's daughter from drowning, he went to rescue her, he went to rescue her fiance. He will come here to rescue Gibbs, and Gibbs is not to leave this house."
"It won't work. He knows that Sophie lives here, and it will only be a matter of time till he finds this place."
"Don't worry, Sophie will have no clue where her brother is. And I will make Sparrow believe that if he doesn't come to Port Royal to meet Norrington, Gibbs will be handed over to the authorities and hanged as a deserter. He will have no choice but to believe me; he knows I'm capable of the worst."
"And you want me as a warder?"
"As a warder, a cook and a doctor."
Inci shakes her head.
"And you?"
"And I will be a messenger and go to Tortuga to negotiate."
"Allah akillar versin!"
This sharp exclamation, "where is your reason?", is like a slap to my face; Inci, as always when she's upset, starts to talk in jargon - in that strange mix of Armenian, Greek, Turkish, Arabic and Jewish that is used widely by prostitutes, thugs and thieves of the Levant.
"This is the stupidest plan that I've ever heard about! Do you think you can do it all alone? I can't help you much, I told you that already! Do you think you can outwit Sparrow, who has his crew on the Black Pearl, his mates in Tortuga, his friends in Port Royal?! Only two of us against them? You, a wanted criminal, a former mate of Barbossa that so many people still hate, and me, with a belly up my nose? We can't even meet each other freely! Your Captain was cunning and wise and what not - and it's him who got killed, not Sparrow! And he had all his crew with him and was immortal! And you think you can win, stupid? If you get killed in Tortuga, what the hell will I do... now, when we've just met?!"
"Oh, Inci, shut up! Nobody is going to be killed. And yes, I think I can win if I play my cards carefully. I have my head..."
"You have a head, so has a pin!"
"Sparrow is only a man," I say quietly. "And we know his weak spot, while he doesn't know ours. He won't even be able to connect us."
"Ritchie, don't... you can't beat him now. Wait till I have a baby... we'll think up something."
"He's going to Cancun soon, and we have Gibbs. He must rise to this fly, Inci, and there'll be no better opportunity to catch him. If you don't want to help me, so be it..."
"Ssssh!" she says, standing up and looking at the door. In the sudden silence we hear a shy creak of the wooden stairs.
"Stay here," orders Inci. I stay, of course, where I am. I have no place to hide.
"What is it, Sophie?" she asks in a lazy voice, sticking her head through the door; she's pretending she was asleep.
"T-the Governor's carriage is downstairs, Miss Isabella."
"Really? Go and help him undress."
I stand from my chair, when Inci shuts the door.
"Damn," she hisses, opening her wardrobe, "he'll be here in a moment. You can't leave the room, he'll see you in the corridor. Come in here, sweetie, and be careful, there could be pins in some of the dresses..."
"Give me my hat, will you?"
"Here you are. Take the food too... but don't eat... and here's your lute. What a bloody old libertine! He should be dining with his family now, it's Sunday afternoon, for God's sake! He's lost all his sense of decency!"
"Well, it's good news," I say, making a nice place for myself among Inci's gowns that smell nicely of raisins and rice poudre. "We don't need him to be decent, right? There's still a chance he'll make you Mrs Swann, then."
"No, I don't think so," she says, waving her hand with resignation. "He's rotten enough to stink, but not enough to enrich the soil. Everything is halfway in him, and he's a coward... oh, there he is, I can hear him. Alright, you now be quiet and wait while I deal with him. I wonder what he wants... I smell something unpleasant here. I hope he didn't get wind of you."
"Inci, love, have mercy on me, please. I can't be locked here forever, it's hot as hell, and your bloody poudre..."
"Oh, shut up, pirate," she says closing the wardrobe's door. "Suffer, and your reward will be great... but don't sneeze, or I'll kill you."
I sit down with my head in the tender folds of Inci's dresses; fortunately enough, I have nearly a full view of the room from between the door's leaves. I can see Inci making herself comfortable on the armchair, with her lips puffed-out and eyelids heavy from the feigned sleepiness; she sticks out her tongue and winks at me, when we hear a short and surprisingly shy knock at the door, and becomes motionless again, just in the moment when the Governor comes in.
He's a big and tall man in his fifties, it seems, but despite his elegant clothes, his elaborate wig and his dandylike cane, he looks neither powerful nor sure of himself. He stands before Inci like a cadet before his general, begging her acceptance with his round, anxious eyes - and he beams with sudden joy, when she smiles at him.
"Please, take a seat," she invites him in a languid, childlike voice, waving her hand at the chair I was sitting in before.
He lands his big butt in the chair, visibly relieved to see that she's in a good mood. Inci doesn't move, watching him lazily from amongst her frills and laces, like a little dragon in a Chinese temple.
"Isabella, my dear, I admit it's very unlike of me to visit you so unexpectedly," he starts talking very fast, no doubt unnerved by her silence, "but, I was very worried about you... you left the church before the Mass' end. How are you... ekhm..."
His voice trails off, his eyes wander elsewhere. I follow them to pass the slightly risen curtain of Inci's nightgown, just to see these nonchalantly crossed, slender ankles, and these miniature feet in shiny silk stockings, caressing the soft velvet of the footstool. Hey, you powderpuff, take your eyes off them, they're mine!...
"... How are you feeling?..."
Damn you, Governor, I'm not feeling well here, if you ask me.
Inci smiles weakly and sweetly.
"Oh, thank you, Weatherby dear," she says closing her eyes a little. "To tell the truth, I felt ill... it's because of the heat, no doubt. I thought that I'd feel better after a nap, but it didn't help me. Perhaps I should go to bed, but you were so nice as to come..."
"By no means you should pay any attention to me," he says hastily, "if you... ekhm... if you'd like to go to bed, maybe I could help you..."
I smile to myself, remembering that Inci likes to sleep naked.
"Ah, don't be so eager to help me, my big wig," she says, suddenly opening her eyes wide and leaning forward in her armchair. "I'm so happy to see you here! You never come on Sundays, it's only in church that I can look at you..."
He looks at her with such gratitude I suddenly feel sorry for him, and he takes her skinny fingers into his plump white hands.
"I had to come and see you," he murmurs, strangely ashamed.
"Oh, I knew you'd come," Inci whispers, grabbing him softly by his heavy coat and pulling him close to her. "Look, I sent Sophie for fresh fruit, and she was just in time. Isn't it wonderful? I feel so lonely on Sundays, and today - what a surprise!..."
Then she entwines the end of his white cravat round her finger and pulls him even closer, touching her forehead to his.
"When I saw you in this wig today," she whispers with a catlike purr, "just imagine what I was thinking about!... Don't you want to play it again, my little naughty Miss Swann?"
The Governor turns pale, then reddens, looks around, then looks into Inci's huge dark eyes as if looking there for his reason that has just left him.
"But... my dear child, you are... you were feeling unwell..." he murmurs like a broken musical box that tries to recall its last melody.
She is pretending that she doesn't hear him and continues, sticking her fingers in the buttonholes of his coat:
"It was delightful, I really loved it... mmm, I will be your big gentleman in a wig... your great Governor... or your brave Commodore, hm?... And you'll be an innocent milkmaid this time..."
She draws her sharp finger across his right cheek; he catches and kisses her hand, closing his eyes.
"Or am I too heavy for you now, what do you think?..." she asks with a playful smile.
I nearly hit my head on the wardrobe door. Wait, Inci, you little devil!...
"Surely not, Is... Isabella, my dearest... you are so nice to me, I... I..."
"You want to tell me something, don't you, my poor dear?..."
He is looking at her with suddenly guilty eyes.
"Now, now, what is it? You know you can tell me everything. I can feel that something is bothering you, Weatherby darling. Please, tell your Isabella what's wrong," she says taking his face in her hands.
"No, nothing," he murmurs, stroking her forearms, with his eyes deep in her cleavage. "It's nothing, I swear... Let's send Sophie for some wine, my dear. I can see now that I was mistaken."
Inci draws herself back a little.
"You are hiding things away from me," she says in a tenderly patient tone. "You know that it saddens me more than listening about some unpleasant gossip. Don't be afraid to tell me what it was."
He draws nearer to her.
"It's really unworthy of mentioning, and I can see now that I was... I was wrong."
"You were wrong in what, dear? We have a whole Sunday afternoon for us! Just tell me what it was, we will laugh, and proceed to nicer things," she says with her sweet smile, tapping his nose with her finger.
"It was foolish of me to listen," he says, kissing her hand again. "Will you forgive me?"
She places his hands on her lap, watching him for a while, and then nods slowly at her thoughts.
"You don't need to say anything," she says plainly, with a deep sigh. "I don't want to forgive you anything, dear."
"No, no, I must confess that. I... I came here, because I had to face a terrible supposition. I was told that you... that some young man has been paying you visits recently."
Inci blinks.
"What?" she says sharply. "A young man?"
"It's nothing! I know... I'm convinced it's a lie. I don't... I didn't believe it in the slightest."
Inci stands up from her armchair and goes to the window, scratching her nose and furrowing her brows. The Governor watches her helplessly from his chair, leaning back promptly, when she turns over to look at him.
"You believed it, my poor, poor Weatherby," she says in her childlike voice, full of pity.
"Never!... Not even for a moment..."
"Why did you come here, then?" she asks, shaking her head. "When I believed that you finally gathered your courage to visit me on Sunday... and you just wanted to make sure if I'm not hiding a lover in this wardrobe... oh, it makes me sick!..."
"Isabella!..."
"No, my big Governor, you must get your reward for such a brave exploit," she says, walking around the room angrily, not looking at him; her voice is full of pain and sarcasm. "You left your honourable family to see your kept woman on the Lord's Day!... Where will you start? The bed? The wardrobe? I suggest the balcony, the air outside is so fresh... go and cool yourself... and I will search under the armchair."
He clings to her nightgown, but his hands shake, unable to hold the frills. She stops unexpectedly and places her hands on his head.
"You see," she says, her voice soft and tender again, "I don't care about myself, but I can't stand you hurting yourself so badly. I'm a nobody, but you have your position in society, both as a gentleman and as a governor. Just imagine what the people of Port Royal would do without you? Commodore Norrington wouldn't have defeated Barbossa's pirates, were it not for your help. It's you who restored peace to these waters, and you can't find peace for yourself, because you're so kind and confiding!... You believe in whatever others have to say! Oh, my poor dear..."
She hides her face in her hands and turns away, but he doesn't allow her to go, falling on his knees clumsily and embracing her legs.
"Isabella, my love, I was a fool!... How could I... what should I..."
"Ah, let me sit down, please," she says fanning herself with a sleeve. "It's only pathetic laughable gossip, like that one about me picking herbs on the cemetery!... It was definitely the funniest, don't you think?..."
He laughs with her.
"We won't talk about it anymore," continues Inci sweetly, "I just wonder what he looks like, that young man..."
"Ah... I was told that he has curly brown hair, and seems to be very agile and clever."
"Hmmm," says Inci thoughtfully, "I don't know who told you all that, my little Weatherby, and frankly speaking, I don't care... except for that it's surely someone who doesn't wish you well... but I do have some idea who that young man may be."
The Governor frowns.
"Is there anybody annoying you, my child?"
"Oh, I'm not sure, but... you know this person well, Governor," she says narrowing her eyes.
"Who is that?!"
"I am really not so sure, and I don't want you to be too harsh to him... just keep your eye on him, my dear, and you will see your daughter happy again and your family peace restored, I promise you."
"Dear God... do you mean it is William Turner?!"
Inci nods sadly.
"I've seen him around my villa a few times," she says with her eyes downcast. "I didn't want to tell you that, but it's been bothering me recently... your daughter came to visit me not because of that pearl necklace, but because she suspected that Mr Turner might be interested in me... This young woman is really bright!... I was feeling so bad about her, so guilty... I couldn't help her much, but... Didn't you tell me how happy she was when she was back?... The only thing I could do was to assure her that it's you and only you that I really care about..."
"He will regret that!..."
"Oh, no, Weatherby dear, don't scare me!" she exclaims. "I may be wrong! I don't want to accuse an innocent man, and there must be many young gentlemen with curly brown hair... I'm sure nobody can be as agile and frisky as Mr Turner, who's such a fine swordsman... but it'd do him good if he pays more attention to his sweet wife, and not to drinking and debauchery in the club. You're an experienced man, my dear, and you know high society and its dangers too well to fall into bad company, but Mr Turner is young and naive... oh..."
She presses her hand to the forehead.
"What is wrong, Isabella, darling?" asks the Governor with a genuine anxiety.
"Oh, I don't know... I feel so dizzy!... Oh..."
"I will call Sophie! Maybe she should run for the doctor?..."
"No, no, it's nothing... I suppose I'm just very tired. I've been talking too much, and I was so worried about you... your hands were trembling!... Oh, I will just lie down for a while..."
"I'm such an insensitive fool, forgive me, my dearest. You should go to sleep, I won't bother you anymore... I'd better go home and talk to my son-in-law."
"And what will you tell him?... No, my poor Weatherby, you must have some proof. I could be mistaken about all that... and you cannot simply go back from my house and start reading sermons, or he will think you're as immoral as him. Eat a Sunday dinner with your family and just watch Mr Turner... discreetly."
"You're so right, Isabella, my dearest," he says, kissing Inci's hand. "I will come tomorrow, in the evening, if I may."
Inci smiles with her sleepy eyes and watches him go out of the room, then listens to his footsteps on the staircase, opens the door to listen to the sound of his carriage, closes the door and leans on it with a sigh.
"What drudgery," she says, "I'm hungry like a wolf. Come here with all the food!"
I open my wardrobe, catch Inci in my arms and carry her to the bed.
"What are you doing? I said I'm hungry!"
"All right, we'll eat in bed!"
"No way, I hate crumbs on my sheets."
"I'll clean it all, I promise."
"Go away, Ritchie, you're all covered in poudre."
"It's your poudre!... Or is it Swann's? Does he like to wear your dresses?"
"Are you jealous, sweetie?... He's too bloody fat to wear my dresses."
"You were wearing his wig. Oh, I'd love to see you in it! Did it stop on the tip of your nose or on the neck?"
"Give me the pie. And the pillow... no, not this one, that big one. And stop talking about Swann, I had enough of him today."
"Your wish is my order, love. Just one more thing. How is he in bed?"
Inci laughs, throwing her shoes across the room.
"Sweet, sweet, sweet... and greasy. Like a pudding. And a coward."
"In bed?"
"Aye, in bed. Just imagine, he's afraid to make love to me, because I'm pregnant. Didn't want to hurt the baby, you know. I had to work on him for months, and my belly was growing and growing, and his fear was growing and growing... would be funny, if I weren't that starved."
"I promise you, little devil, you'll starve no more."
"I'm not sure if I need you here. You heard all this rubbish about yourself."
"I'll be really careful... Do you have an idea who the spy is?"
"It may be Elizabeth's maid. I don't think it's Sophie... Anyway, I don't care about this lover business, I'm worried about all that business of Norrington's love affair. It sounds too dangerous to me."
"So you won't help me?"
"Who said that I won't? I'm worried about it and it sounds dangerous, therefore I'll help you."
"Oh, Inci, my little pearl!..."
"But not for free, mind you," she says with a smug smile.
"Not for free?..."
"No money, no Swiss, sweetie."
"I have no money, love."
"Oh, you must have something of value."
"Something of value, you say?... Alright, little devil, you have my hands, my lips, my tongue, and the whole of my body. From now on I am ready to do your bidding, gladly and without delay, whenever and wherever you want, in whichever way you want."
"We have an accord," she says, laughing. "Where are you staying in Port Royal?"
"In the Red Stocking."
"Very well. You're not going back tonight, understood?"
"I'm yours to command."
I don't know when the evening comes, I don't know if the night follows, and I don't care. The little room becomes the whole world for us, we find new paths, new horizons, new wonders. I am reminded again how mighty and beautiful is my little devil when she has two hearts beating inside her, how delightful is to watch her body effloresce; Inci discovers on my body scars that are unknown to her, and she laughs listening to their history, because there's no reason to weep - we cheated death and oblivion, we are united once again.
I cover her with a silken sheet in the morning, kiss her forehead that's glistering with sweat, and place her tired hands on the pillow. According to her orders, I am to come back tomorrow, after making sure that Swann is gone.
I jump off the balcony, congratulating myself on the villa's insignificant height, and cursing the jasmine bush I've landed in. The garden is full of morning dew and I sigh happily, feeling all this freshness. Another Caribbean morning that brings me closer to my goal.
The tiredness overwhelms me, when I climb the stinking staircase of the Red Stocking. Ah, I need sleep so badly. I can't believe that in such a short time I managed to sleep with Fat Elsie, to meet Norrington, to hear the Mass, then to meet Inci and spend the whole night under her sweet tyranny. I'm a bloody saint, if there ever was one.
I close the door of my dusty little room, yawning, when I feel a barrel of a gun on my back and I hear a quiet order:
"Hands up. Slowly. Put them on the wall. No, don't even try to turn around."
tbc