Author's Note: Welcome to Crossroad the sequel to The High Road. I am planning on continuing this series with another follow up story after this one. Hopefully life won't intervene and I will be able to have Part Three up soon. I would like to thank all my wonderful reviewers, merielrose, Derannimer, Mizamour, Atiaran, Athena Moralias, Faith-Catherine, Scifi-warper, and Ophelia Hyde. I would also like to thank Kody Wright for her ideas and help with this story. Feedback or constructive criticism would be lovely and I thank anyone who takes the time to read this. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean. Katherine alone belongs to me.
Crossroad
I took tea late in the afternoon. The service was rolled into my office with a china pot filled with the still steeping brew and a platter of biscuits. I tapped one of the golden biscuits on the edge of my desk, the resounding thud suggesting it had sat in the kitchen for a long while. Fortunately, the butter provided in a small side dish was freshly churned and I heaped it onto a single biscuit before preparing my tea.
It had been a long day, in an even longer week, wrapped up in an even longer month. After the incident with the Black Pearl, piracy seemed to be on the rise again. The scoundrels were no doubt heartened by the supposed "heroics" of Mr. Sparrow who had shown not a hair since his escape two months ago. I found myself struggling to undo all the damage he had done which put me in a sour mood, along with my rather embarrassing run-in with a highway brigand a few weeks past.
Perhaps it had been a fanciful drunken dream, born from the shards of heartbreak and hidden lust, only fueled by the liquor I had consumed that night. I had kept it secret for in truth, I felt like quite a fool. What properly trained military man goes out at night without a weapon or a sense of where he intends to go? I deserved it, perhaps. The robbery of my brooch had been a sharp reminder never to let my guard down. And as much as I hated to admit it, the incident took my mind off of Elizabeth and her impending wedding.
Some nights I still lay awake in bed, dreaming of what might have been. But then I remembered the face of that woman and the ferocity of her kiss which pressed into me a sense of shame. I had no reason to pine for what was never there in the first place.
A sharp rap sounded on my office door as I stirred two lumps of sugar into my tea.
"Yes?"
"It's Lieutenant Gillete, sir."
"Ah, come in. I'm just taking tea."
The door opened and Gillette stepped inside with his normal air of elegance. But I noticed his eyes slide contentiously towards the tea service. I frowned. How very unlike him to be shy about anything.
"Would you care to join me, Lieutenant," I said, gesturing to the spare cup sitting upside down by the tea pot. "The biscuits are a bit stale, but I've made do."
"No sir, it isn't that I'm afraid."
My frown deepened. "What then?"
"A Mr. Robert Tenson is here to see you, sir," he continued, glancing over his shoulder. "I asked him to wait but he says it's urgent. So sorry to disturb you, sir. If you want I can tell him…"
"Best send him," I replied, laying my tea cup aside on its saucer. "With any luck it won't take long."
Gillette's dark eyes widened. "Yes, sir. Right away." He left, only to return shortly with a stocky man wearing a light green coat and powdered wig.
"Commodore." He bowed, his queue flopping against the nape of his neck. "Sorry for the interruption, but I have a pressing matter that I hope you will attend to."
Gillette left, shutting the door behind him.
"Please." I poured a second cup of tea and handed it to him as he seated himself across from me. "How might I help you, Mr. Tenson?"
Inwardly, I sighed. I did not feel like discussing business at the moment or giving up my solitary tea for forced conversation. But once again, duty got in the way.
"I am an honest merchant, Commodore," he said, lifting his cup to his lips. "And I am happy to say that trade has been good overseas, thanks to your skill with quelling any pirate doings."
I nodded, accepting the compliment with practiced grace. "Thank you. But surely you did not come here just to offer thanks."
"No, I am afraid not," Mr. Tenson continued. A scowl pulled at his chubby face. "You see, it was a wagon that I had chartered overland with goods that was ambushed just last week by a brigand."
My throat tightened, but I inclined my head to indicate that I was still listening. Dear God, it hadn't been a dream then.
"A fair amount of my money was robbed and some goods pilfered, all by a highwayman. When the wagon driver tried to fight the devil off, he was shot in the arm. Thankfully, there is no lasting damage, the ball just grazed him. But meanwhile my goods are missing and I can't make another shipment overland unless I know the roads are safe."
I clenched the arms of my chair. So, the woman had struck before and by the look of things she was no amateur. Robbing a wagon was risky business. "Do continue," I managed.
"The robber left nothing," Mr. Tenson said. "Save this." He stuck a hand into his pocket and pulled out a piece of black cloth. Only up close did I recognize the material. It was the woman's kerchief, her mask that hid her gender and so much more.
My fingers trembled and I took the handkerchief quickly from Mr. Tenson.
"See the lettering?" He pointed to the corner of the handkerchief. Two letters a "k" and a "b" were stitched there in silver thread.
"What do they stand for?" I asked, my gaze not leaving the embroidery.
"I have no idea myself, Commodore. Perhaps the rascal's initials?"
"Yes." I folded the handkerchief and placed it in my pocket. "Well, Mr. Tenson, I will do my best to recover your stolen property, but with a robber such as this one I fear your goods might already have been sold off."
"I know, sir, I know. But I'd love to see the man hang for it."
I offered Tenson a small smile which doubled as a grimace as I once more recalled my account with the brigand. "As a matter of fact, so would I."
"Thank you for your time." The merchant stood and bowed. "I'll be in Port Royal for another two weeks at least. Just send any word along to one of my servants."
"Of course." I showed him to the door, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity though my heart thudded in my breast. After Mr. Tenson had taken his leave, I stumbled back over to my chair and sank into it, weak-kneed.
I felt ashamed, mostly. The morning after the woman had robbed me I should have set out with a party of marines at once to track her down. But my wish for discretion caused more harm than I could have ever imagined.
"First I let Sparrow go and now this," I growled, flicking biscuit crumbs off the cuff of my coat. I would not let her get away now, even if it meant putting my reputation in jeopardy. Something must be done.
"Sir?" Gillete was at the door again.
"Yes, come in."
"If it is not too impudent to ask," he said, gliding into my office. "What did Mr. Tenson want?"
I sighed and did not meet his eyes. "The man was robbed upon the road, his property stolen. We are needed to…"
"Another one?" Gillette asked, forgetting at once his impudence.
My eyes flew to his thoughtful face. "Another one?"
"Yes, sir, by my count that's seventeen," he replied, lowering himself into the chair where Mr. Tenson had sat. "There were reports of highway robberies during the time we were at sea searching for the Black Pearl. One was fatal for the victim, I believe. And if this account it true, that brings us up to…"
"Eighteen," I mumbled. My face felt hot. "I did not know she murdered anyone."
"She, sir?"
I stood and began to pace, my heartbeat falling into step with a steady cadence. "It was foolish of me. I went out late upon a night for a walk along the roadway. She came up behind me quickly. I had no time to…"
"She, sir?" Gillette was on his feet now. "You do not mean to say…?"
"Yes, Gillette, the highwayman is a woman. A queer and wicked woman at that. She robbed me of the brooch I intended to gift to Elizabeth and threatened to blow my brains out for her trouble. And then she disappeared back into the night like a phantom on her horse."
At once I knew I had said too much. Gillette's face paled. He had grown awfully superstitious ever since the incident with the Black Pearl.
"She is a ghost then," he said in a hollow voice. His hand rested in his pocket and I knew he was fingering a crucifix.
"I meant it figuratively," I replied. "She is a flesh and blood woman, I assure you. But she does have the devil in her."
"What are we to do about it, then? She cannot carry on in such a way."
I paused and gazed at the map of Port Royal hanging on the wall above my mantle. One black line detailed the highway that ran through the town and out into the country. "We could try to draw her out. After all, she is just one woman. I would say the element of surprise would work well for us in this situation. I could serve as the bait."
"Sir, that's too dangerous," Gillette said. "What would happen if you were wounded or worse?"
"Then you would get a promotion and I would be called a hero," I replied, allowing myself a grim smile. I did not want my officers knowing that I had a strange curiosity regarding the woman. In the very depths of my being I almost wanted to be close to her again and to learn more about the face behind the mask that had kissed me without fear or regret. It was dangerous and more than a little foolish, but I knew my soul would not rest again until I had learned more.
"Gather a company of men and stout-hearted officers," I said at last. "We leave tonight."
I took to the high road once more, keeping my pace steady, slow and tempting. Every now and then I crossed to the opposite side of the highway and cast a glance around my shoulder. Nothing. Nothing, that is except a company of marines and several very trustworthy officers that had scattered themselves along the road waiting for the sound of hooves.
I thrust my hands deeper into the pockets of my burgundy coat and kept my head down. The night was deceptively quiet, even the chirping crickets ceased to make any noise. A chill ran up my spine and I suppressed an oncoming shudder. Tales of ghosts and hauntings were useless in my mind despite the fact that I had battled more than a few undead pirates. But even I could not deny the dangerous light that glinted in her eyes and strange wickedness of her forceful kiss.
The road began to dip down under my feet and I lengthened my strides, leaning against the forward tilt of the land. I was coming to the valley, that secluded, covered spot where the robber had first ambushed me. I guessed she thought the place handy for picking off unwary travelers and I had to fight myself to keep my eyes fixed on the road ahead. She could be hiding anywhere…
The basin of the valley felt hot. No cool ocean breezes reached down into its depths and I soon found my shoes coated with mud. Smart, I thought. She waits for her victims to slow down, forced to slosh through the muck before she makes her move. I did not pause, but kept to the road. Soon the land curved upward again and I pulled myself up the small hill. I had just about come to the crest when I heard a surprised snort.
She had to rein in her horse hard this time. The animal's short stop nearly tossed her from the saddle. Had I truly surprised her? The robber managed to halt her horse several paces away, falling upon the neck of her mount for a brief moment before she righted herself. Her tricorn hat had fallen over her dusky eyes and she pushed it back, adjusting a new kerchief about her face. To my great surprise, I saw the pearl brooch still pinned to her breast.
"You again?" She did not reach for her pistol but stared at me. "Are you still pining, sir? I told you the lassie is not worth it!"
I cringed, thinking of my men crouched alongside the road hearing the embarrassing comment. "This time, I am afraid, I have nothing for you." I placed my hand on my hip, the signal to my officers to make their move.
"That's what you said before," she laughed. I could see a smile crinkle the smooth skin about her eyes. "You'll always have something for me, I can…"
The sound of underbrush being trampled by heavy boots alerted her. She froze, her hands upon the reins for an instant too long. And then she withdrew her pistol, pointing the weapon towards a slight gap in the trees and directly at my emerging men. Her finger squeezed the trigger. For a brief moment, indecisive panic filled me. But then I thought of Sparrow plunging off the cliff to escape and rescue. I could not let this one escape. With just an ounce of regret, I pulled my pistol free from beneath my coat and shot her.
Gray smoke from my pistol billowed about my face. For a brief moment I was blinded. Had I hit her? But then the woman fell from her horse rather gracefully, her back arching as she tumbled, her head thrown back in pain and shock. Her weapon fell useless to the ground. I did feel sorry for it, seeing her lying in the road like a beaten beast. But I reminded myself she would have done the same to me and had committed similar atrocities on other, less fortunate, travelers.
The horse took a nervous step back and whinnied once as my men poured out onto the road. One marine managed to grab his bridle, though the animal continued backing away in terror. I sighed and lowered my pistol. The stench of powder filled the air.
"Sir?" Gillette was by my side. "Is this her, sir?"
"Yes," I said. With a bit of reluctance I moved closer to the prostate figure, her face pushed down in dirt. I crouched down next to her and saw that she was still breathing, every exhale pushing up small clouds of dust from the road. Her eyes opened as she felt me draw near. She tilted her head up just enough to see me.
Reaching into my pocket I withdrew the black handkerchief. "You left this behind, madam, when you attacked Mr. Tenson's wagon." I studied the silver lettering for a moment, the "K" standing out like a beacon on a foggy night. "What does it stand for? Kathleen? Kate?"
"Katherine." Her eyes closed with the admission of her name. I shifted, a heavy weight dropping into my chest. My gentlemanly mannerisms were warring with my sense of duty. I almost pitied her.
I took a deep breath to dispel my hesitancy. "Well, Miss Katherine, you are under arrest for thievery, unlawful assault and mur…"
The horse began to prance uneasily and before I could finish he bolted, knocking half my soldiers to the ground. I too had to leap out of the way of his great hooves which thrashed about.
It was the moment Katherine needed. She flung her arms out and caught upon the saddle, dragging herself onto her horse's back with practiced ease that belied her wound. The two of them, woman and creature, were racing down the road and out of sight.
"Good God," I heard Gillette stutter. He crossed himself. "A phantom!"
"No," I replied, dragging myself to a stand. With my pistol I pointed towards the road. "Look, your ghost has left a trail of blood."
We followed the gruesome trail for over a mile. The sun pushed its way past the eastern horizon, warming our backs and highlighting the pools of blood which seemed to grow in size as we traveled on.
The woman had to be dead. She must have lost half her blood to my shot. I found myself expecting to find her corpse around the next bend or even hear the last thud of her horse's hooves.
But we saw nothing, heard nothing. A stillness descended over the dawn, not the comforting sort that usually comes with daybreak, but an oppressive air that began to smother me. I looked to Gillette.
"Sir?" His face had a white hue to it. Half my men looked asleep on their feet.
"There is nothing besides the blood," I said, disappointment making my voice fierce. "How could she…?"
"I don't know, sir." His shoulders slumped. "We ought to have brought horses to catch the devil."
"We ought," I growled. How could I have been so foolish? I had let Katherine fool me once by walking out unarmed and now I had neglected to bring transport of any sort to give chase if need be.
I paused, standing in the middle of the road to catch my breath. My men fanned out on either side of me, some walked several paces ahead searching for bloodstains upon the ground. I suppose it was my training as a navy man that caused me to blunder. Horses were foreign objects to me, useless. If Katherine had been a pirate I would have sunken her ship by now. But a highway robber was an altogether different creature.
"Commodore, sir!" Gillete's voice had a startled quality to it, breaking my musings.
I tightened my grip on my pistol and waded through the brush by the side of the road to where he stood.
"There." He pointed to a great splatter of blood on the tall grass, which parted awkwardly, leading back to a grove of trees.
"Hardly a place for a horse to move about," I said, frowning.
"Unless she dismounted."
I chewed my lower lip. "Unless she means to trick us."
We stared at each other for a moment, Gillette's eyes questioning my decisions before I had even made them. "Gentlemen!" I called to my men, waving them over. "This way."
It was difficult work, picking our way through the crowded trail and over the large roots of the trees that snaked out in front of us. But as I discovered, the trail did not lead far off the road and the land soon cleared, revealing an old wooden house surrounded by a great pasture.
"A hideout?" Gillette questioned. "It is certainly isolated enough."
"I am sure of it," I replied, pointing to the ground at a few drops of blood. "She came this way, at least."
I lead my men with caution up to the house. The walls were a dull gray and half of the roof seemed to have caved in. The door stood ajar. We moved inside and found the first room empty. A cobweb covered clock sat on the mantle of a fireplace that had not been used in ages.
I passed through another door to the right and felt my breath catch in my throat. A great smear of blood covered the floor as though the woman had thrashed about. The walls in this room held no dust and one slot of wood was pushed back to reveal an opening.
"Gillette!" I stepped over the bloodstain towards the torn off panel, sticking my head through the opening only to be assaulted by a musty scent. A ray from the rising sun lit on the secret compartment and my eyes found a large chest, the lid thrown back to expose a pile of gold and jewelry. Half a dozen rapiers of fine make hung from the back wall. I leaned in closer, my fingertips brushing upon the cool surface of my pearl brooch which lay atop the pile of ill-gotten wealth.
"Sir?" Gillette entered the room behind me. "Sir, there is no one in the house. I haven't even seen any blood. Mon Dieu!" he cried, seeing the treasure. "She's stolen all of that away from traders and travelers? Quite a witch, don't you think?"
I slammed the lid of the trunk closed, but not before slipping the pearl brooch back into my pocket. "Quite."
I walked the short stretch from the fort to my house with a swing in my gait. The night was cooler than usual, making my oppressive uniform seem a bit lighter and more comfortable. Stars glowed in the ebony sky and I tilted my head upwards, allowing myself a moment to watch as they slid across the heavens.
The silence that fell over Port Royal brought a comforting air with it. I delighted in looking at every shuttered window I passed, knowing that inside a family slept well and safe. No brigands would taunt the roads. No pirates would haunt the shores. I sighed and let myself smile. It was a job well done on my part.
One would think eliminating a threat such as a highwayman or woman for that matter would lighten the work load of any lawful official. In truth it had been more or less of a mess since the discovery of Katherine's hideaway and the treasure that lay in store. Much of it could not be restored to its rightful owner which led to bickering amongst many false claimants. Fortunately, Mr. Tenson had stepped forward to recover his share which left the remaining treasure small in amount.
Nothing more had been found at Katherine's estate, besides her bay horse that appeared without his rider in a back pasture. The animal had been transported to a local auctioneer who announced that he was, as I suspected, a fine creature who would fetch a high price.
I turned down the small street which led to my home. My shoes made a light pattering sound on the cobblestones which echoed off the walls surrounding the manor and garden. I sighed, knowing I had done my utmost to bring justice to the Caribbean almost made returning home to an empty bed bearable.
Sleep fell upon me quickly that night as I eased onto my feather bed and drew the curtains to keep out the nightly vapors. My dreams were sweetened with thoughts of Elizabeth and my old home in England with its hedges that formed a maze. But the maze melted into black water that pressed upon my chest and squeezed all the air out of my lungs.
I awoke with a jolt, springing up in bed only to be pushed back down again.
"Commodore Norrington," an all too familiar voice growled in my ear and for one panic-stricken minute I realized the weight on my chest was not a strange affect of slumber but an actual person. Katherine pressed her pistol against my forehead. "I would like my horse back."
Author's Note: Now how in the world did Katherine survive? All shall be explained in Part Three. Thank you taking the time to read!