Ransom Bride

Lorenzo drank sparingly of the rich red wine Dominicus had ordered, listening to the request being made of him. In the darkness of the streets he had been unable to see the face of Don Pablo clearly, but now he saw that he was a man in his middle years. Heavily built, he wore a small, dark pointed beard, his hair short and thinning at the temples. And there was a faint unease in his manner that Lorenzo found interesting.

‘His Holiness requests that you pledge your support to our cause,’ Don Pablo said. ‘Your galleys are some of the finest and your men are strong and brave, and, I am told, loyal to you. If you join us in the League, others will surely follow.’

‘It was my intention to make my offer once I had consulted with my captains,’ Lorenzo said, his eyes thoughtful as he studied the other man. Why was it that he did not quite believe him as honest as he appeared? ‘I shall join your cause for it is also mine, but the men who serve me are free to choose. I believe most will follow me, for they have cause to hate the Turks and their allies.’ Some hated the Spanish just as much, but he would not say that. ‘Now, perhaps you would care to tell me the true reason you chose to follow me this evening?’

Don Pablo smiled. ‘They told me you were clever. I shall not insult your intelligence by holding to the claim that I am here on the Pope’s behalf, for that might have been left to others, though I know His Holiness intends to approach you. I followed you because I believe you have good cause to hate Rachid—he they call the Feared One. I have heard it said that you hate him and would see him dead if it were possible.’

Lorenzo was silent for a moment, then, ‘What has Rachid done to you?’

‘Three months ago his galleys attacked and captured one of my merchant ships,’ Don Pablo said and his fist clenched on the table. It was clear that he was suffering some deep emotion. ‘That cost me a great deal of money—and one of the men he killed was my son-in-law.’

‘I am sorry for your loss, sir.’

‘My daughter and grandchildren are living in Cyprus,’ Don Pablo went on and his hand shook as if he were in the grip of some strong emotion. ‘Immacula wants to return to Spain with her children. I would send ships to fetch her myself—but I have suffered other losses of late. Those accursed English privateers, as they call themselves, have been harrying my ships as they return from the New World…’

‘You are asking me to bring your daughter to you?’ Lorenzo’s brows arched as he studied the other’s face.

‘I am willing to pay for your time, of course.’ Don Pablo’s eyes dropped before Lorenzo’s intense gaze.

‘My galleys are meant for war. They are not suitable for a woman and children. I think you must look elsewhere for your escort, Señor Dominicus.’

‘You mistake me, signor. Immacula will naturally travel in our own ship. I but ask for an escort to see her safely to Spain.’

‘You want my galleys to escort your ship?’ Lorenzo nodded, his gaze narrowing as he studied the Spaniard. Something was not right about this. His instincts were telling him to be wary, and they were seldom wrong. ‘My men work for me. They are not for hire to others.’

‘Surely they would do as you bid them?’ Don Pablo’s eyes were dark with suppressed anger and something more—was it fear? Lorenzo could not decide, but sensed that there was more to this than he had been told. ‘I believed you commanded. Do not tell me that those who serve you dictate what you do, for I should not believe it!’

Lorenzo’s mouth curved in a strange, cold smile that sent a shiver down the spine of his companion. ‘Forgive me if I speak plainly, Don Pablo. Some of my men have suffered at the hands of the Spanish Inquisition. They would spit in your face rather than fight for you.’

Don Pablo’s face suffused with anger, his neck a dark red colour. He started to his feet as if he would strike out in anger. ‘You refuse me? I had heard that you were a man of business. Surely my gold is as good as the next man’s?’

‘For myself I would take your money,’ Lorenzo said, his face a stone mask that revealed nothing of his thoughts, ‘but I cannot expect my men to fight for a Spaniard.’ He stood up and inclined his head. ‘I am sorry, but I believe you may find others willing to assist you.’

‘You may name your own price.’ Don Pablo flung the words after him, seeming desperate. ‘I beg you to help me, signor.’

‘My answer remains the same, Don Pablo.’ Lorenzo turned to look at him, his eyes cold and resolute. He was certain now that his instincts had been right; this was not a simple matter of business. ‘When you decide to tell me the truth, I may reconsider, sir—but until then, farewell.’

A look of fear mixed with horror came to the Spaniard’s eyes and for a moment he seemed as if he would speak, but he shook his head and in another moment Lorenzo closed the door behind him.

His instincts had served him well as always. He believed that the attack on him had been planned, not random, a ploy to make him grateful to Dominicus—to make him accept the commission that was offered in a sense of friendship and trust. Lorenzo had learned in a hard school that few men were to be trusted.

There was more behind this than met the eye, and it smelled wrong. If his enemies had set a trap, it would need to be baited more cleverly than this.

Chapter Two

So this was Venice! Kathryn looked about her eagerly as their ship weighed anchor in the great lagoon. They were too far out to see the shoreline clearly, but the grand palaces of the rich merchant princes lay shimmering in the sunshine, the waters of the lagoon lapping over the steps at which brightly coloured gondolas were moored.

‘What do you think of Venice, my dear?’ Lady Mary asked as she came to stand beside the girl. ‘Is it what you expected?’

‘It is beautiful. I did not know what to expect. I have seen a pastel of the Grand Canal and its palaces, ma’am, but reality far exceeds the artist’s imagination. Those palaces seem almost to be floating.’

Lady Mary laughed. She was a stout, good-tempered lady, who had been pretty in her youth, and her smile was warm with affection, for she had grown fond of Kathryn on their journey. They had been together some months and it was now the spring of 1570. In England it would still be very cool, but here it was much warmer as the sun turned the water to a sparkling blue.

‘Yes, it has a magical appeal, does it not? My late husband was an enthusiastic traveller in his youth. He told me of his visit to Venice. We must visit St Mark’s Square and gaze upon the Doge’s palace while your uncle is at his business, Kathryn.’

It had been decided that she should look upon her kind friends as Aunt Mary and Uncle Charles.

‘We may not be blood related,’ Charles Mountfitchet had told her at the beginning of their journey, as they set out to London to meet his sister. ‘But we shall be together en famille for some months and must be comfortable with one another.’

Kathryn had been very willing to accept him as an honorary uncle, for she had long felt close to him. They had comforted each other throughout the years since Dickon’s abduction and she was fonder of him than anyone other than her father.

‘Oh, I want to see everything,’ she said now. Her eyes had a glow of excitement that had been missing for a long time. The journey had suited her for she had not been seasick, as Lady Mary had for the first few days of their voyage. ‘And you will feel so much better to be on land again, Aunt.’

‘Indeed, I shall. I might wish to go no further,’ Lady Mary said with some feeling. ‘I fear that this is but a temporary respite, for my brother wishes to settle in Cyprus and so we must put to sea once more.’

‘He plans to grow his own wine,’ Kathryn said. ‘But who knows? His plans may change.’

‘You are thinking of Richard, of course.’ Lady Mary frowned. ‘I know that both you and my brother hope for a miracle, my dear, but I fear you will be sadly disappointed.’

‘But it does happen,’ Kathryn said. ‘Suleiman Bakhar told my uncle that sometimes slaves may be either rescued or bought from their masters. If Dickon was sold as a house slave, it is possible that we might be able to find him and purchase his bond.’

‘My brother has tried to find his son,’ Lady Mary said, sighing deeply. She did not believe their search would come to anything and feared that they merely brought more pain on themselves. ‘For years he petitioned men of influence to help him in his search, to no avail. I believe that Richard is dead. I am sorry, but I think that some trace of him would have come to light before this if he were alive.’

‘I know what you say is sensible,’ Kathryn said, her eyes bright with the fervour of her belief. ‘But I feel that he lives. Here inside me.’ She pressed her hands to her breast. ‘I cannot explain it, for it must sound foolish, but if Dickon had died—a part of me would have died too.’

Lady Mary shook her head, but said no more on the subject. In her own opinion Kathryn was living on false hope. Even if her nephew had somehow survived, he would not be the same. Any man who had endured years of slavery must have changed; he might be hard and bitter or broken in spirit. Either way, Kathryn was doomed to grief. It might be better if no trace of Richard was ever found, for surely in time she would learn to love someone else.

The girl had blossomed under her care. While in London they had visited the silk merchants, buying materials to make into gowns suitable for a warmer climate. Lady Mary had been pleased to take the girl about, introducing her to her friends, giving her a taste of what life could be, and the change in Kathryn had pleased her. She smiled more and her laughter was warm, infectious, though there was a stubborn streak beneath her pretty manners. Yet she had thrown off the air of sadness that had haunted her lovely face and was revealed as a charming, intelligent girl.

Lady Mary had great hopes of finding a suitable husband for her charge before the time came for Kathryn to return home.

‘I believe this is the gondola come to take us ashore,’ Kathryn said as she turned to her companion. ‘We are to be taken to the house Uncle Charles has hired for our use, but he is to meet that friend of his immediately. Signor Santorini, I believe he called him.’

‘He hopes for news, I dare say.’ Lady Mary smothered a sigh. ‘Well, at least it will give us time to settle in. Men are always in the way at such times.’

Kathryn smiled, but made no answer. Given a free choice she would have wished to go with her uncle to the meeting, but she had not been asked. She would be of much more help to Lady Mary—but she would be impatient for news.

‘I trust your journey was a good one, sir?’ Lorenzo rose to meet his visitor. He had chosen to receive him in one of the smaller salons to the right of the grand entrance hall, for it was more welcoming and more conducive to privacy. ‘I am pleased to meet you at last, Lord Mountfitchet.’

His words were spoken frankly, his eyes going over the older man and finding that he was drawn to him in a way that was not often the case with strangers. He saw suffering in the other’s face, the greying at his temples and in his beard; it was a face grown old before its time. It was the face of a man who had known terrible grief. For some reason Lorenzo was saddened by his grief, though the man was a stranger to him.

‘Come, sir, will you not take a glass of wine with me? Pray be seated.’ He indicated the principal chair, which was of a kind not common in England, the seat well padded, and the low back comfortable and shaped to accommodate a man’s bulk. ‘I dare say you are weary from your journey?’

‘Indeed, a glass of wine would be welcome, Signor Santorini,’ Charles Mountfitchet said as he took his seat. ‘My sister and niece wanted me to accompany them to our lodgings and rest for a day or so, but I was impatient to meet you.’

‘Unfortunately, I have no definite news of your son,’ Lorenzo said. ‘However, there is a man I would have you meet, sir. He was rescued from a Corsair galley two months ago, but has been too ill to question. We believe that he may be English, though as yet he has hardly spoken a word.’

‘What does he look like?’ Charles asked barely able to contain his excitement. ‘What colour are his hair and eyes?’