Author's Note: Hello and welcome to chapter three! Captain Sparrow finally makes his entrance in this one. I do hope I got him in character. I would like to thank all my readers and reviewers, Mystress Daedra, Charlotte Norrington, ElfLuver13 and Jackeroe. I would also like to thank my beta Mytress Daedra for her wonderful help with this chapter. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own the Pirates of the Caribbean or its characters.
Chapter Three The Mare, the Sparrow and the Plan
It was some time before dawn that Maeve broke out of her stall. The gale had ceased and the wind fell to a sweet whisper as she kicked free the already well battered latch. The wood creaked and the stall door swung open. She waited for a single minute, holding the glory of her newfound freedom with delicate care. Then bounding out into the dusty aisle, she trotted smartly out into the courtyard.
With one leap, Maeve defeated her old adversary, the garden wall. She gave a little flick with her tail as her haunches cleared it. Now all that lay before her was the sun burnt road that lead to the heart of Port Royal with the sea shifting endlessly beyond. The mare paused a moment and let the balmy air caress her flanks. Nostrils dilating, she lifted her head and sought the scents on the wind. The comforting smells of the stable, the salt grass, and the ripe tropical fruits. Raising her forelegs in a half rear, she galloped down to the sea.
Not many people saw the chestnut mare galloping down the golden embankments of sand, nor did many care. Maeve threw herself along the shoreline and let the incoming waves tickle her hooves. Then with a snort of delight, she fell to her knees and onto her side. Soon her heaving flanks were slick with moist sand. She rolled over and over, letting the rough grains scratch her back.
A sudden noise and the playful mare was on her feet, ears quivering as an invader stole up the beach. The muscles in her haunches pulled tense beneath the soft flesh. A man sauntered closer. He moved with ease at times but every now and then his feet stumbled. His brown cheeks were puffed out as he whistled some inane tune. Strange braids and beads twitched about his serene face and his eyes glowed like hot coals. Spotting Maeve, he stopped and pointed a curious finger in her direction. He looked wary for a moment, and then smiled. His smile was warm, genuine. Maeve relaxed.
"Are we quite alone, love?" he asked, curling his toes over the sand. The mare appraised him. Her brown eyes rolled inquisitively, the black lashes fanning her pupils. Her visitor chuckled and in a manner similar to hers, dropped to the ground.
Maeve arched her neck and snorted. The man smiled, his lips pressing against the gold teeth that glinted in the pale dawn light. He simply ignored her.
Enraged at such ignorance she plunged and kicked. No man could come to her beach without permission. Fortunately, the stranger realized his error. He grunted and groaned and climbed to his feet, still retaining a suave air.
"I'm sorry, milady. Forgive me rudeness. Name's Captain Sparrow. Jack Sparrow." And he bowed low enough for the ivory beads to brush the sands.
Maeve shook her mane and scattered the grains that stuck to her back. Jack didn't move. With a whicker of resignation she turned away and moved back up the road.
Norrington left early for the fort that morning, too early to know that Maeve had taken leave from her stall. By the time the mare returned the children and their mother were already having breakfast in parlor. Emer preferred not to take her meals in the dining room when it could be avoided. The parlor window faced the blooming gardens and the children took turns naming the birds that flew by. It was an easeful time of day, now only interrupted by the red faced groom, Charles.
"The chestnut mare had herself another run, mistress," he panted. Emer kept her eyes on the children, both of whom were eyeing the last piece of melon.
"Not hurt?" she said finally.
"No, mistress. She's wild eyed and fierce though." Charles managed, his arms scraped with dirt.
"She'll calm," Emer replied. A man had stepped into the gardens and through the corner of her eye she watched his progress. He moved among the lilies, the roses hugged his blue coated shoulders.
"What am I to do with her?"
"Put her in her stall."
"Mistress?"
"She'll calm." A squabble had broken out between Little James and Nelly over the melon. Emer nodded in dismissal and sent the haggard Charles trudging through the hallway.
"It's mine! Mama tell him!" Nelly squealed as Little James held the green slice of fruit aloft and tight within his small handed grasp. The man outside had disappeared from the garden. A knock rang sharply on the door announcing his arrival. The groom opened it to admit a dapper naval officer and stepped out himself. Lieutenant Gillette removed his hat respectfully and moved into the parlor.
"Good morning, Mrs. Norrington."
"Philip, how good to see you." Emer stood and a board smile stole over her bony features. The children immediately stopped their squabble at the sight of Gillette and hurried out of their chairs, the melon clearly forgotten on the table.
"Mister Philip!" Nelly caught him around the neck first as he knelt to greet them. Little James tottered slowly towards him and allowed himself to be hugged.
"What have you brought us?" he asked insistently, pulling away.
"James," Emer scolded softly. The boy frowned, the corners of his mouth sagging in defiance.
"It's fine," Gillette said hastily, sinking a hand into his pocket. "They know me too well." He extracted two pieces of sugar candy and presented them each to the ecstatic children. Now it was Emer's turn to frown. She did not like the idea of giving them such a sugary treat so shortly after breakfast.
"Nelly, James, why don't you go to the stables and give Maeve your sugar. I am sure she would love a visit."
The children's glee at Gillette's visit was replaced by the excitement of the prospect to visit their favorite horse. Together they trotted through the hall and out the back door. With a soft grunt, Gillette stood.
"Is the Commodore in by any chance?" he asked politely.
Emer shook her head. "He is at the fort already. Left early this morning." Gillette's boyish face succumbed to disappointment at her words.
"Pity. I would have liked to be the one to tell him."
"Oh?" Emer rose and pressed her hands to the back of her chair.
"An old friend of his is back in town. He'll want to know all about."
"Old friend? James didn't mention anything to me about it." Her eyebrows arched curiously.
"Not likely, though I am sure you have heard of him, Mrs. Norrington."
"I have?" she pressed him. Emer did not usual ask so many questions but Gillette's tone alone piqued her suspicions.
"Jack Sparrow," the Lieutenant pronounced the name with a great deal of disgust.
"Jack Sparrow. Isn't that the…"
"The pirate who managed to escape seven years ago. Hasn't been seen or heard of since."
"Yes, he was the one who aided in the rescue of Mistress Turner, I believe."
"Hmm, the Commodore swore to bring him to justice but the scoundrel fled."
"Yet now he is back." Emer walked around the table and came to stand in front of Gillette.
"So rumor has it, madam. Though why Jack Sparrow would return to Port Royal where the noose awaits him I do not know. The man is clearly daft."
"Clearly," Emer said thoughtfully.
"Well, Mrs. Norrington I must be off."
"So soon? Won't you have a bit a breakfast?" she asked hopefully. Perhaps she could pry some more information out of the old family friend. And for a moment, she thought he might very well take her up on her offer, as he looked over the table laden with fruits and sweet rolls.
"No, I mustn't," he answered with a thankful smile. "I am wanted at the fort. Good day to you, madam. Please give the children my regards."
Emer nodded. "Yes, I will. Thank you, Lieutenant." Her words were spent and she turned from him, listening to the echo of his footsteps retreating down the hall.
Standing alone in her parlor, the young woman allowed herself a moment of breathless triumph. The waves had brought this boon to her. The tempestuous, fickle seas had heeded a lover's plight. Her wait was over. With a girlish laugh she gathered her skirts and hurried out to the stables to join her children.
When Norrington returned to his home that evening, he appeared more harassed and disturbed then ever. The children were quiet, weary from their afternoon spent in the stables brushing Maeve. Emer remained as demure and firm as always. She didn't want her husband to sense that anything could be amiss.
His rather harried state of mind distracted him though. She let him speak bleakly at dinner and even held her tongue when he mentioned hiring a teacher for the children. Normally this topic would send her into fits of fury. Her own tutor in Ireland had been a cruel old fellow and she couldn't bear the thought of her own little darlings being forced to endure such misery. But now it was essential for Emer to keep her husband's mind elsewhere. She would have told him that her horse had once more escaped from her stall just to keep him occupied.
Fortunately, Norrington found himself too tired to sit up that night and retired at the same time as the Nelly and Little James. Emer took care to tuck them into bed, hoping her husband would doze off before she joined him in the room across from the nursery.
"Tell us of the bird lady again, Mama," Little James demanded even as his eyes drooped.
"No, we heard that story last night," Nelly sighed, pulling her comforter up to her chin. "I want to hear about the fairies."
Emer searched her mind for a suitable tale, her eyes glancing out the window to the harbor. The pastel colors of the walls faded as the stars emerged in the heavens. A newly arrived merchant vessel sat comfortably in the bay, the source of her husband's aggravation earlier that day. The captain of the ship had tried to smuggle in illegal goods. But of course the contraband never got past Norrington's watchful eye, not much did.
"In Ireland during the Samhain nights many yeas ago, there lived a goodly man named Nera," she mindlessly began the bedtime story but the children were already asleep. She smiled and touched their smooth foreheads before blowing out the candle.
Norrington paced the length of their bedroom when she entered a moment later, his coat removed and his stock half undone.
"What is it?" she asked in her soft manner. Silently, she wondered if Gillette's news troubled him.
He stopped pacing and sighed. "A foolish matter."
"Those are the most troublesome."
"Never mind. Lieutenant Gillette mentioned that he stopped by this morning."
Here it was. Emer strained to appear nonchalant. "Nelly and James were pleased with his visit. It would be nice to invite him to dinner sometime this week."
"I'll be too busy at the fort," he said, running his fingers through his close cropped brown hair. The dratted white wig stood nearby on the dresser, perched regally on a stand. Emer waited a moment, her breath catching uneasily in her lungs. Would he mention Jack Sparrow?
Norrington slowly removed his waistcoat and threw himself onto the bed, too tired to exchange his breeches and shirt for nightclothes. Emer turned away and smiled, on the pretense that she too was preparing for bed.
"It is terribly warm tonight, don't you think so James?"
"Mmm," he mumbled, hand shielding his eyes from the candlelight. Emer seated herself in front of her dressing table. Her fingertips danced along her red locks and began to separate each piece for braiding.
"I have half a mind to take a walk down by the harbor."
"Yes." His words were slurred now, sleep was taking him.
"You don't mind of course?"
This time he muttered no reply and the sound of his heavy breathing soon reached her ears.
"Just as I thought," she said happily. Emer stood and quietly fetched her cloak from the clothespress. It would not be fitting for the Commodore's wife to be seen frequenting the grungy taverns near the harbor. But it would be a necessary evil if she wanted to find her husband's old rival, Jack Sparrow and petition his aid.
Her mind already grasped the misty dreams of the future. She saw the thundering waves and the gallant ships battling against them. As it had worked for Elizabeth Turner, so would it succeed for her. This was the road to her James' heart through the ways of a pirate.
Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Please leave a review and tell me what you think.
