Chapter 28 Shadows of the past

"To whom it may concern," the letter had opened.
"I had hoped that I would be granted the opportunity to serve the king in peace for whatever life God saw fit to grant to me, however it would seem this is not to be. If this letter is being read then matters have gone as badly as I fear they might, and I can only hope that this missive finds its way safely to one who can save matters, for it now seems that it is beyond me to do so."

Governor Thynne raised his eyes from the bright stained glass to the whitewashed ceiling with its skeleton of dark rafters and wondered how many such events this church would see before the business was settled.

Beside him Admiral Norrington was still and silent, eyes closed in apparent prayer; Thynne took a moment to wonder exactly who the admiral was praying for, or to for that matter. Hathaway and Groves were sitting beyond him, each one as silent as the admiral, both seemingly lost in their own thoughts, upright and respectful, though neither of them had much knowledge of the man they were here to honour. Unlike himself, who had known Weatherby Swann since his school days and who had danced at his marriage feast. He could only be grateful that the gentle Mary had long since passed to her rest, for she would have been singularly ill equipped to cope with recent events.

His own wife, Anne, dressed in suitably muted tones, was to his other side, her face pale in the shadow and, he suspected, more concerned with thanking god that it hadn't been his office that Beckett had usurped than with thought of the dead. Unlike the good people of the town the Governor had no doubt that events would have been little different had he been so; even without the freeing of Jack Sparrow Beckett would have found a way to bring these islands under his control while he pursued his vendetta of hate and ambition. His wife, like himself, could only be glad that the disaster had not befallen them.

Now his friend was gone and with him his only child and they were gathered here to put some decent clothing upon the manner of their loss. The forms must be observed however little faith in them remained, how else could any of them go on?

As he sat in the rapidly warming silence, feeling the paper crackle in his pocket as if loathe to be silent, he wondered if Weatherby would have written differently if he had known to whom the resolution of these matters had fallen? Probably not for the tone of the letter suggested that he had not expected them to reach official hands.

"Today I have signed over one hundred requisitions, and seventy execution orders; yesterday it was seventy requisitions and thirty execution orders. I have lost count of the full number in these last weeks. The town is stripped of provender and the gallows are never still, they have begun hanging people in batches of seven now and all night the death carts are moving bodies to the grave pits. Men, women and children and none of them tried before the law or shriven before God, something I never thought to see under an English crown. We killed a king for the law and yet Beckett forswears it with apparent impunity, and I, to my never ending shame, say nothing. No more does James Norrington, nor those who once sailed with him under the crown's flag. Fear is all around and no one dares to speak up while Beckett's spies are about, the man Mercer is a shadow in everyone's mind. But we are further from London than I had given thought to and now I doubt that Beckett has much to do with the crown.

With some time to think, and I have far more of that than I would wish, I realise that there could have been little time for the news of Sparrow's escape to reach England before Beckett set sail, and that the manner of his arrival here was more to ensure that no one would reflect upon that fact than to flaunt the panoply of state. Nor do I know how he found out about Elizabeth's foolhardy aiding of Sparrow for I never sent word of that to England, why would I when all they needed to know was that the man had gone? I doubt that James Norrington said any more, for he is a good man and he had some care for Elizabeth, even though she chose a blacksmith. Groves has assured me that none of the Commodore's officers would have been so disloyal as to question his judgement on the matter of his delayed pursuit of the pirate, and I doubt that the Admiralty would have informed the king had they done so, not without him hearing of it, for all official letters to England passed through his hands or mine. The most there could have been was some gossip and rumour, and execution warrants used not to be issued upon rumour. But then nor had they used to be issued on the demand of a merchant."

Thynne remembered the man he had known and had no difficulty in imagining the sorrow and pain on the familiar face as these words were penned. Weatherby Swann had been a wise and merciful man, stalwart in defence of his king and always honourable, but in dealing with the likes of Cutler Beckett all of that would have been a fatal handicap. Even though he had known him.

"I remember Cutler Beckett well enough, always an unpleasant, mean and ambitious man, anxious to gain the standing his lineage and his father's profligacy and degeneracy denied his family, and ever eager for the honours the king has to bestow. Yet his own habits have never been much different. He seems no less greedy for wealth than when I knew him and no more inclined towards honour or duty, despite his protestations. But I would never have suspected the full nature of the man he is shown to be. That he has attained his current nobility, if indeed he has, and I am no longer sure of that, causes me some concern, for either the crown is more desperate for funds than I had assumed or his ruthlessness and corruption goes unsuspected. The matter of Jones suggests that it may well the latter.

But there is nothing that I can do. Not while Elizabeth's fate is unknown. I tried to get her away to England, both for her safety and in the hope that she might speak to the king; may god forgive me, for all my efforts achieved was the death of good and loyal man at who knows what cost to his family. I have made some small restitution for their possible need in my will but I no longer have the hope that any law will prevail that might honour that document.

That attempt cost me my last peace too, for Elizabeth is gone and I have no way of knowing how or where she has found refuge, or even if she still lives."

The small organ began its hum and Thynne closed his eyes, trying to imagine how he might feel if either of his daughters, happily married and safe in England, had been so lost.

"Hell can bring me no greater punishment for I do not know where my daughter is. She had disappeared from the coach when I returned to it and I have neither seen nor heard anything of her since. Beckett swears that he has no knowledge of her whereabouts and I can only pray that he speaks the truth, yet his creature Mercer is no where to be seen and I fear that it is in his hands that Elizabeth is held. I pray every moment that I am wrong and that she has found her way to William, or better still to the pirate Sparrow."

The music grew louder and the congregation surged to their feet, the smell of incense announcing the arrival of the clergy, those men of the church whose voices had been noticeably silent these last months. While the law of men had been suspended the law of god had been similarly forgotten, or so it seemed. Thynne knew men and had no doubt that those who had been silent then would shout all the louder now that the time of greatest testing was past. Yet he would have to deal with them, sit with them and dine with them and smile with them, but all the time he would do it wishing that they had known some of Weatherby's doubt and pain. If that were a sin he would trust to God to judge it correctly.

"Strange that I write that. But the world has gone mad and that is but a lesser strangeness of it. William had agreed to trade with Sparrow on Beckett's behalf and it is to him that Beckett believes she will have fled; though how she will find her way I cannot see and I dread to think what fate may overcome her. But even if she finds him there can be no safety, for, though William has shown himself to be a good man in the making, he is young and knows nothing of Beckett and his world. How, then, can he keep Elizabeth safe?

Sparrow however most certainly does know Beckett and in that he may be her one remaining chance of surviving this storm. Is it heaven's judgement upon me that a man I would have stood by and watched hang, knowing that he had saved her and dealt with her kindly, might prove to be my last hope of my daughters survial? Yet I have heard stories of the dealings between Sparrow and Beckett these last days, and if they are even half true then I pray that it is in his company Elizabeth rests, unholy though it might seem, for I find myself unable or unwilling to believe that one who would do such a thing would harm her."

'Strange indeed', the Governor reflected as he watched the ruddy faced vicar take his place. Yet in so topsy turvey a world why should it not be so? Governor becomes dupe, honest man becomes felon, merchant becomes pirate and pirate becomes privateer, all on the stroke of a pen, and not always an honest pen. But how much had Weatherby Swann known? He found himself hoping that he had not known the full truth of it, for if he had then it could only have made his fears for his daughter greater.

" I may delude myself but I find that I am hoping that there, aboard a pirate vessel of all things, she has some chance of safety. Maybe Sparrow will find a way of resolving this and freeing her, for it seems that the pirate is a clever man; and in the eyes of God perhaps a better man than I, despite his lawlessness. If the whispers are true then Beckett marred Sparrow's life as surely as he is destroying mine, and I find myself bitterly regretting that I would have seen him hang. For Beckett I would plait the hangman's rope if I could. Too late we learn it seems, but the law has failed me and I would break every tenet of it to preserve Elizabeth and end this killing, and not think myself fallen."

With a rustle of silk and lace the congregation came to their feet and the memorial service for Governor Swann and his daughter began.

"The song that Beckett has killed so many for is finally been sung, though the significance of that I have been unable to discover. I hear whispers of stolen hearts and pirate lords but little that makes sense. I must know more! Beckett seems to be preparing for some last great battle that he believes will grant him control of the seas, though why he assumes that defeating pirates would do this is unclear. There are other enemies, not least the Spanish, who will oppose him and his ambitions, and they will bring much greater war and bloodshed than we have yet seen. Yet Beckett seems unconcerned by this, but James Norrington understand only too well and each day I see the regret in his eyes become deeper and the weight that seems to rest on his shoulders grow heavier. I know that in some way he has aided Beckett in his ambitions for he now wears the uniform of an admiral, though not a navy one, yet I cannot believe that so honourable man would have traded Elizabeth for his present rank. But Beckett devalues most that he touches, no less now than when I knew him before, and his ally Jones seems to spread corruption over all that venture near to him."

As he rose from his seat to read the gospel Thynne wondered if Weatherby had known what manner of thing Jones was when he wrote that. He hadn't known of the heart that much was clear.

"The armada of requisitioned ships is nearly provisioned and tomorrow we set sail. Beckett insists that I accompany him, and I begin to suspect that he needs my presence to hold his venture together just as he has needed me to sign the documents. That betrays him, for with the king's authority behind him he would have no need of mine and he could have thrown me inthe deepest cell available, and yet he has not. It is my authority that he hides behind, will hide behind when this is done, and that makes all this possible. Yet I can do nothing while Elizabeth may still live and be within his power, and he is counting on this, I can see it in his eyes. Now as my strength and honour is most tested I find that it has deserted me and I can only pray that God will understand and forgive my weakness. For myself, I have no ambitions any longer and my only prayer is that William and Elizabeth find some way out of this storm and the war that will no doubt follow."

As Thynne returned to his seat, looking over the ranks of carefully bent heads, he wondered if Weatherby had learned of Elizabeth's fate before he died. He hoped not.

***

Elanor halted for a moment to brush a wisp of hair from her forehead, the air was humid and her skin was sticky. The gentle slope seemed to stretch on for longer than was likely, more disturbing evidence of the size of this cavern, if that was what it was, and of Ariadne's underestimation of it. Jack had caught her up, eventually convinced there was nothing to follow them, and they moved, shoulder to shoulder, down towards what looked to be a canopy of trees.

At this distance it was uncertain what they were but the colour and texture shifted as if they were moving, and occasionally the tendrils of cloud they had seen from above drifted amongst them, probably not far below the top leaves but not certainly so. Though there was no sign of life, and no sound other than that wind like whistling they had noticed above; Jack kept one hand on his pistol and Elanor one hand on her taser as they moved slowly and carefully downwards.

At first the ground had been covered in just a slick of the blue green moss, a thin covering and one that crushed easily beneath their feet, leaving lingering foot prints and giving off a strange and pungent smell as it did so. But after a while it got deeper and developed more spring, the coils of the tiny leaves cushioning their steps and rising back up as they passed on. By the time the carpet had reached ankle deep it was showing bright yellow flowers with dark stamens at their centre, and though their feet bruised the petals they recovered as the leaves did, seeming to glow brighter for the disturbance. The flowers. like the leaves, gave off a strange smell when pressed, but it was not unpleasant, a mix of lemongrass and pine essence was as close as Elanor could get to a description.

Above them the top of the cavern was still swathed in that drifting cloud that obscured the roof. The smooth black wall of rock they had climbed down looked glassy at a distance. Like a waterfall of obsidian frozen in the act of falling.

Occasionally she checked the small glow that told her the camera was still streaming the images of what was around them back to Ariadne's watchful eye, but so far she had not seen anything that caused her to warn of danger. High above them Mr Gibbs waited in the shade, they had spoken twice since they had finished the climb down, and though he found the speaking strange he responded willingly enough and seemed to be alert. No sign that he been at the rum. Like Jack he seemed to tolerate sobriety more easily than one might at think on early meetings.

The vegetation started small, outcrops of scrawny ferns and low spreading succulents sprouting out of the deepening layer of moss, but they grew in number and size quite rapidly. The first tress were still fern like and no taller than themselves, with elongated trunks the colour and texture of coconuts topped by plumes of deeply cut and curled leaves, a bright yellowish green at the centre but edged with red and purple. As they passed the leaves would move as if disturbed by insect or animal, even when they did not touch them, but there was no other sign of life.

The scent of the plants crushed by their passing was getting stronger, seeming to follow them, thickening the air, making it harder to breathe. Sometimes it seemed to rise up like smoke though there were no pollen grains or vapour that she could see.

The plants seemed to be getting larger with every yard they walked. New trees were appearing, each species seemingly taller than the rest and not only because the land was still sloping downwards. Most of them were the same green as the canopy ahead but there were a few where the green inclined to blue or yellow. The leaf shapeswere becoming more variable too, the ferns were still there amongst the delicate fronds there were those with a more substantial constuction, some were broad leaves coated on their undersides with fine hairs or brightly coloured bulbous others where the surface looked to be made of leather. A few had flowers, racemes of bells in white and yellow, or wide and flaring cups of blue, purple and deep red. The scent of the flowers added to the resinous smell of the growth they crushed under foot making the air heady, and at times almost suffocating.

Jack pulled away from one of the bright arches of bells with a moue of distaste and a shudder, halting the movement as she came to stand beside him staring at the plant with wide eyes.
"What is it Jack?"
"Nothing," he hurried to reassure her, "Stinks worse than the town midden that's all, you'd think that something so dainty would be more discrete about its perfume."
Elanor leaned closer to the arch of pale bells, wrinkling her nose with distaste as she realised that the flower did indeed smell like rotting refuse,
"There must be something somewhere that appreciates it. Scent is usually to the taste of the insect the plant wants to attract."
"Insect? As in flies?" he shrugged and brushed the flower stem away from their path with a finicky hand, wiping his fingers on his breeches afterwards, "suppose it must work then but I've seen no insects here and I've no desire to meet any that finds such a stench to its taste."
She took another sniff then backed away quickly her face contorted in her distaste.
"I'm sure you've smelled worse in your time," she said dryly remembering the stench of the Tortuga alley.
Jack gave her a long hard stare as if she had said something important,
"Aye, but not much worse." He smiled suddenly. "Still no use in chatterin' here, sooner we get down to the bottom sooner we are likely to fond the fountain and the sooner we can be gone."
With that he strode on ahead.

As he heard her fall in behind him he frowned, secure that for the moment she could not read his face. Even so he wondered what it was that had given him away, if indeed anything had. But why had she said that if he hadn't; she couldn't know that it wasn't a midden it reminded him of, that for an instant he had been back on the deck of the Pearl facing the Kracken again. Or could she? He did not know the scope of that ghost of hers, who knew what whispers in the dark that unearthly presence could hear. With a silent curse he took a hold of himself, the fountain could not be so far away now. A day, maybe two, for this place was bigger than he had thought it would be and they were making only slow progress, and thoughts of the locker could be behind him for good. All he had to do was hold his nerve, and he had had plenty of practice at that.

As she followed him down the slope Elanor wondered why Jack had chosen that flower to stop by, why it was that he had chosen one whose smell had stirred such powerful memories. Yet it must be co-incidence for there was no way that he could know, perhaps it was all in her imagination anyway, nothing more than the product of the anxiety she could feel nibbling at her mind. She shook herself slightly and lengthened her stride, closing on his heels, there was no going back, not without Jack, and the set of his shoulders and the swagger in his step told her as clear as any words that he had no intention of abandoning his quest. It seems that on this occassion she would have to follow.

***

Hathaway could only reflect with admiration on the skill the Governor had show in mounting this service. It seemed that the man was well chosen, for slowly but surely he was bringing the people to think that the crown had been no less betrayed by Beckett than those who had suffered. Without saying anything of the sort of course he was reinforcing the rumours that spoke of Beckett as a traitor in the pay of the Spanish, a man who sought war in the pursuit of gold and power. While it was some way towards being the truth Thynne's skills in making others believe the sum of it, without ever saying a words in defence of it, was masterly.

He cast a quick look around him, the pews of the small church were stuffed with the great and the good of Port Royale society and the back of the church well packed with the less elevated members of the community, including those who might well have felt that Governor Swann had betrayed them. A passing glance at Groves showed the man's face to be stiff and shuttered, but the tightness around the mouth, and the shadows under the eyes, hinted at considerable unease and many sleepless nights. No doubt he was wondering with some bitterness, perhaps rightly, if James Norrington would be honoured in such a way. No doubt in England there would be a service for the fallen naval hero, with the accompanying suggestion that he fell about the kings business; but here, where the populace had seen him promoted by Beckett's own hand and in the uniform of the Company, even as so many of their number mounted the gallows, it was unthinkable. For the moment at least. It was only the loss of Swann's daughter that had made the ex Governor's redemption possible, the people here would believe anything of Beckett now, that he had threatened a gently born girl with rape and murder to force her father's hand, and killed him when he discovered the truth, was taken for granted.

Or maybe it was guilt? For Groves had followed Beckett till the end, only seeing the truth of the man when the waters were closing over the Endeavor. His guilt seemed genuine enough however, and there had been no mistaking how he had bitten his lip when Elizabeth Swann was mentioned.

Here again the Governor has showed his skills, for Elizabeth's actions in the whole matter were artfully skirted, and the vicar's comments on the young girl lost to the sea gave no fuel to fire of gossip. After this the rumours of her joining a pirate ship would be seen as nothing more than a cruel and malicious fabrication by Beckett's cronies and none would want to be associated with them. In death Elizabeth Swann's many faults were being smoothed away, to a degree that would never have been possible had she lived, at least not if some of the tales Hathaway had heard were true. But under the Governors guidance it seemed she would take her place beside sleeping beauty and Rapunzle before long, forever a model of betrayed maidenhood. Norrington's letters hinted at a different story of course, but hints were all there was and there was no need for them to be disclosed. It was enough that Elizabeth Swann had died at Beckett's hands, exactly how and when could be forgotten.

On that thought he closed his eyes and let the swell of organ music wash over him, wishing that this display truly were the end of the matter.

***

The slope was getting steeper again and keeping their footing was becoming more difficult. Beneath them the moss had grown to a foot or more high, the tightly curled leaves like fine wire springs that shivered and shimmered at their passing; but the surface seemed wet, though the heavy air contained no more water than before. Maybe it was the shadow that made it seem that way, for the trees were now tall, each spreading branch reaching out to touch its neighbour. In the swaying green the first insects seem to have appeared, some hopping between the flower spikes that now reared into the air like pikes, others hovering in small clouds to do whatever it was they were about.

Jack found his hand tightening on his pistol as he watched them as if they were enemies massing for an attack.

Elanor had stopped beside a tall and graceful tree, its green needles soft and flushed with pink at the tip. With a sudden fear of danger he crossed to stand beside her, easing the pistol from his sash as she reached up to touch the lowest bough.
"Why have you stopped? What's so interesting? What is it?" He ran one question into the other in his sudden worry,
"This one look familiar. But it shouldn't be here."
He watched her impatiently as she stroked the leaves,
"None of this should be here, or so you and your ghost keep sayin'. Why should this specimen be any the less here than any other?"
"I think it's a Dawn Redwood. One of the oldest trees on Earth. They were thought to be extinct until a few were found in some isolated mountains in the twentith century."
She looked around her,
"Somehow finding something I know here is worse than finding nothing I know."

"Makes no sense." Jack protested with a flick of his hand.
"Probably not, but its easier to believe this is all a dream when there is nothing familiar at all. Finding something that is makes it more real somehow."
He stared at her for a moment,
"Seems real enough to me," he said eventually, shrugging and pushing the pistol back into his sash with some hesitation, "but as reality don't seem to count for much these days I'm not sure that is sayin' much."
He looked around them, the trees were tall but not oppressively so, above them he could catch glimpses of the pale cloud they had seen when they stood at the top of this little world. The air was still and heavy with the scent of the flowers and leaves and suddenly it seemed as if they had been walking forever. Not twenty feet ahead was a small clearing with a smooth black skinned bolder at its centre, he jerked his head towards it
"What is real is that I'm hungry, you insisted on bringing food, so what say we sit ourselves down on that comfortable looking rock and make some use of it."

Elanor blinked as she followed Jack's indication, for she had taken a close and careful look around them before she stopped to examine this tree and was sure there had been no rock there then. She gave Jack a sharp look but nothing showed in his face other than the question and a slowly growing confusion as she continued to stare at him.
"Elanor?" he said eventually.
"Sorry." For a moment she wondered where her wits had gone, of course the rock must have been there, she had just missed it in the shifting shadows, "Food. Yes, why not."