"Curse these blasted fools, we're here for gold!"
Captain Blackbane stepped inside long hallway with two of his loyal lieutenants, it was the height of the devil's hour. His face darkened at the scene inside the Convent of Santa Clara.
Some of his notorious band of cutthroats ignored his orders. Already drunk from the wine stores they discovered inside a nearby priory, the men of the Diano Marina descended upon the terrified nuns like wolves. The screams of women and the lecherous catcalls of the sailors hit him like a blast of foul air. Amid the chaotic scene lit by oil lamps hanging on the stone walls, his men were already ravaging their victims. Half-naked victims struggled to escape from their sleeping cells were men shared them.
Blackbane foully cursed in Arabic at the crew while causally stepped over the bloody body of a partially dressed woman. Dressed in a blue wool coat, scarlet vest and white breeches, the large man glanced over the chaotic scene. His pockmarked face held a smattering of black dots on one side of his face. He gave no hints of mercy to the women from his dark eyes looking out under his dark brown tricorn hat.
"Bingham get these bastards off the women. They'll fetch more when they're chaste," he roared amid the chaos.
His loyal first mate responded immediately as he pulled his flintlock and entered the nearby rooms. Blackbane smiled grimly as he watched Bingham strike one of the reluctant men in the head with the pistol butt after the pirate failed to move quickly enough. He and another comrade immediately joined the pirate captain.
Blackbane directed them toward the stairs, pointing with his captured Polish saber. The blade of his karabela still glistened with the blood of a monk who lay outside.
"I want every man to scour every spot in these building. No one escapes or I'll have your guts for the fish." His ominous growl sent the men to their task.
He watched his pirates scurry away while he drained a tankard filled with Cachaça, a strong local wine which he held in his other hand. The captain of the pirate crew waved his second mate over.
"Seymore, help round up the women. I want them on the ship before morning."
The men immediately hurried away, yelling orders to the pirates. While Bingham continued pulling the men out of the cells with their screaming prizes, Seymore's men forced the women into a group near the entrance to the hall. Then, he sent other armed men to inspect the various rooms in that section of the building.
Blackbane continued along the hallway, bellowing orders to the men along the way while Seymore followed along. Reluctant men started to prod their prisoners toward the entrance. Others were stealing silver crosses and other religious trinkets they found inside the cells.
"It's a meager haul," Seymore complained when he saw the items.
"It's the room, damn it. That monk swore upon that damn bible there was a room." The captain glanced inside a nearby room. He went back and forth, searching for doors to open.
Under torture, the few monks captured by Blackbane and his men swore they harbored no gold inside the walls of the monastery. However, a lay brother who witnessed the torture told the captain about a room of golden crosses inside the convent. Blackbane forced the man to lead them to Santa Clara. When they reached the convent, the lay brother confessed that he didn't know the exact location inside of the walls, Blackbane cut the man's throat in rage.
The pirate captain came to the end of the hallway where he found one of his men on top of a struggling nun inside of her sleeping cell.
"You there, get to your duties. I gave you an order to find that gold room!" The captain bellowed as he kicked the sailor with his heavy boot.
"When I finish with my wench," the drunken naked man growled back, not bothering to glance up. He continued thrusting into the pleading woman.
With a roar, the captain dropped his tankard and immediately struck the man with the flat side of his sword. Blackbane savagely grabbed the man by his long, greasy hair and pulled him from the woman. As he beat the sailor with the pummel of his sword, blood splattered across the nun. When the wounded pirate fell unconscious to the floor, the captain stood and pointed his razor-sharp sword blade at his victim's neck. The second mate watched in momentary disbelief, anticipating the man's death. Captain Blackbane's infamous anger was legendary.
"He's a freeman and voted you captain," Seymore yelled out quickly as more pirates gathered around the cell to look inside.
Blackbane paused and glanced over at his second mate.
"Seymore, you tell the men that I'll flay the next man alive who fails my orders," the captain loudly declared.
He pushed through the entrance to the room.
"Now get these rabble moving!"
The second nodded before quickly ordering a nearby crewman to take the unconscious man back to the ship.
"Bear down men. The women go to the ship or they're be a cat o'nine bearing on your back." Seymore bellowed out. Then he smacked the closest pirate with the broadside of his sword blade to emphasize the point.
The man sullenly pushed the nun to join the others huddled near the entrance. The captain looked at the men around him and he recognized that he'd spoiled his crew's anticipated entertainment. It was a position that a captain of buccaneers needed to address or risk losing his position. Pirates were a temperamental group who needed diversions.
"Damn those who forgot our prize. I want that gold room found before sunrise. I'll give a chest of silver reales to the man who finds the treasure," Blackbane roared out to the men around him. The effect was immediate on the sullen pirates. They roared out with approval before they scattered like cockroaches.
Blackbane smiled to himself as he walked back to the huddled group of nuns.
"Take the women to the ship," the captain ordered Seymore "Remind the watch not to molest the young ones or I'll have their hide. Their worth a lot of silver to the crew. The men can have the old ones for their Fiddler's Green."
Seymore laughed at the thought.
"Aye, captain, they'll think even the old ones are paradise after so long at sea. I'll make sure our cargo is treated well."
"Best take them with your trusted men and be off with you then," Blackbane said. He waited, watching until his valuable prisoners were on their way to the Diano Marina.
Blackbane turned and walked through the hallway where he found another passageway. When he opened closed doors at the end of the hall, the captain found several rooms along the way. He walked past the open doors, glancing in to see more of the nun's sleeping cells. His men had already come through, stripping each room of anything valuable. He heard a couple of pirates cursing at the end of a nearby corridor and the captain went to investigate.
Two men stood by a closed door. The thick wood remained impervious to the pirate's attempts to enter. Finally, one man started hacking at the handle with a boarding axe. With growing anticipation, Blackbane stood behind them and watched.
As the door finally splintered apart and the handle fell away, Blackbane ordered the men out of his way and pushed through the doorway. He nearly ran over a small, fearless woman who stood in his path. The convent's abbess stood in front of several terrified nuns.
"You swine," she savagely told the captain in Portuguese. "This is a holy order, protected by God. Your blasphemy will be punished. The Duke of Gandía will hunt you down and rip out your black heart for this insult."
She saw the captain's brown eyes turn cold while he gave her a merciless laugh.
"A black heart you say," he inquired in her language, then shook his head. "No, you have the name wrong, woman. I'm known as Blackbane." He enjoyed how her eyes widen in fear at his name.
"I see you've heard of me. I'm honored the Christians on this coast know of my conquests. Now, join the other captives. You'll have a long voyage come dawn."
"Blackbane, I've heard you rape, kill or enslave Christians for your Muslim masters. You have no honor and I most certainly don't fear you," she said spitefully.
The captain gave her an ugly smile.
"You're wrong, old lady! I also rape, kill or enslave Muslims if the price is right," he replied as he looked her over. "I have no religion. Gold is my crown and I take crosses of silver for my coins."
He backhanded her. The woman fell back, however, she shook off the assistance offered by the nuns. The woman stepped up in front of the larger man.
"You don't scare me, Blackbane." She told him.
"You know where the Gold Room is. Tell me and I'll leave you alive. A scrawny bitch does not bring much on the slave market. Otherwise..." He slapped her. The blow brought a trickle of blood to the corner of her mouth.
Her eyes reflected the defiance which angered him. He pointed his sword blade at her chest. Then, he looked past her at the nuns.
"You have grit. Are you willing to have your nuns tortured to make you talk?" He smiled.
The expression on the woman's face softened. Then, the abbess grabbed the blade of his sword. In a flash, she stepped into the karabela's blade. The sharp point went into her neckand the mother superior's blood shot across the pirate captain. The abbess fell to the floor in a heap.
Gasps and screams came from the nuns who knelt beside her as she died. A pirate sailor who stood next to his captain crossed himself as other men joined to watch the dying woman. Momentarily stunned by the woman's actions, Blackbane quickly gathered himself.
"You can worry about God on your time," he jeered at the crewman. The captain grabbed the closest nun who was clothed in her simple bed dress. He pointed his sword to her neck.
"Alright my sweet virgin, I'll run you through unless you tell me where the Gold Room is hidden!"
Her big brown eyes widened at the threat and she began to recite the Lord's Prayer in Spanish. His fist struck her across the cheek, and she stumbled backward. Blackbane pushed the woman down and she crouched next to him.
"Last warning, wench!" he stated with a menacing growl.
Again, the woman started to pray with her bowed down. With a yell of tormented frustration, Backbane's sword blade sliced down on the woman's neck. Her head tumbled several feet away.
The captain turned to the next nun.
~~~
As the sun rose in the east, the morning screech of gulls remained unusually quiet. The weather was fair, and a fresh breeze began to sweep in from the ocean. Captain Blackbane paced along the rampart at the top of the convent wall which overlooked the town of Faro. Covered in blood and gore, the man still carried an inner fury. Despite the blood and torture, he failed to discover the Gold Room. The rising sun informed him that he was out of time. He must return to his ship with nothing to show for the expedition beyond a few barrels of wine and the surviving nuns as slaves. The haul of slaves would bring some silver for him and the crew. However, it wasn't enough.
It would not be enough to satisfy that greedy bastard, Hamidu!
Blackbane convinced the leader of the Muslim corsair fleet to join him in this invasion of the Portuguese coast. Promises of great riches convinced Hamidu to bring along his own ships. Blackbane recognized his precarious position in the adventure. Hamidu would use this failure against him back in Tunis. Both men were under the control of the Beylik, a Muslim who remained wary of the pirate from America. Hamidu was a Turk like the Beylik who made no pretense of his feelings about Blackbane and his men. He hated non-believers. A wrong move would mean the downfall of the captain. As Blackbane wrestled with his thoughts, he barely noticed two of men passing on the road to the convent.
Bingham hurried to the convent from the ship with a message for his captain. A pirate quickly saluted Bingham as he passed by the first lieutenant. Bingham growled, impatiently telling the man to get back to the ship.
Probably scavenging inside for anything his crewmates missed! The first lieutenant thought dismissively.
He'd had enough problems with the crew of misfits and outcasts. Some of the men held no loyalty to their captain. Bingham believed Hamidu's fingers were involved with the unrest among some of the buccaneers. Since the Diano Marina arrived at Tunis, the replacements came from Hamidu's captured crews. Bingham told Blackbane that the men held their loyalty to the Muslim corsair for some unknown reason. However, the captain reminded his first mate that there was little he could do. They needed men to replace those killed or who left after successful raids along the coast of Corsica the year before. Buccaneers could leave with their share of a prize as a freeman. Some even stayed in Tunis to become merchants or slave traders.
Arriving at the entrance to the convent, he noticed Captain Blackbane staring out at the ocean from the ramparts. The first mate called out in Arabic from the ground below.
"We need to return to the Diano Marina. Hamidu signals for us to rejoin his fleet. I have the ship ready for sailing. What are your orders?"
Bingham's voice broke through his captain's thoughts. Blackbane took a deep breath and nodded.
"Aye, I'll be coming back aboard. Wait for me at the jolly boat."
The captain went to the stairs, deciding to take one last journey through the silent convent. Entering the long, quiet hall where he passed a line of open cells. The bedding and clothing were strewn out of the rooms and into passage. Still deep in thought, Blackbane almost missed the quiet groan and the creak of a wood he heard inside a room. He stopped, placing his hand on the hilt of his karabela. A deathly silence covered the area as he stealthily slid along the wall to the entrance of a room. Carefully, Blackbane went to the doorway. Glancing inside, he saw a chair and simple table with a single candle. Then, he noticed a foot move from behind the overturned bed. With practiced precision, he pulled his sword from the scabbard and rushed into the room. He went to the foot of the bed and saw a partially naked figure covered in blood on the floor. Blackbane reached down as the plump woman curled up in a fetal position, begging for mercy.
"Get up wench," he told her brutally. He grabbed her by her long auburn hair. "You'll serve a new master now."
The nun clutched her abdomen while Blackbane pulled her on her feet. She screamed in agony, holding her wound. He looked her over with a frown.
"Too bad you're already dead. Your liver is cut," he coldly observed. He released her. She fell back against the rough wall. The agony overwhelmed her round face and she glanced down at her wound. The blood flowed through her fingers.
"My cursed man should be flogged for this. You would bring a fair price in Tunis."
"Have mercy, captain. Send for a priest to help me go to God," she pleaded as she crawled toward him. "You cannot let me die without the viaticum."
"It's too late for that," he informed her. "It wouldn't matter anyway; you're already fixed for damnation. Hell, we all are."
Blackbane turned away and the nun suddenly yelled out. She fell toward him. Instinctively, he reached out and caught her. His reaction knocked his sword from his hand. Still holding her body, he knelt with her as she slid to the floor.
When the captain tried to rise, her bloody hands reached up and grabbed him by his coat lapels. With unbelievable strength, she pulled him close. He couldn't force her away. Blackbane stared into her eyes. Their unnatural glimmer showed him a look of resigned madness.
"Captain Blackbane, you will carry your foul sins for eternity," the nun whispered in a deathly voice that chilled him. The man's expression turned dark. Again, the captain tried to push her away, a frantic feeling coming over him.
Still she held on!
Despite the struggle, the woman used her index finger to quickly trace a bloody symbol on his neck.
"Damn you, let go of me," he growled out and pushed hard against her. With a death gasp, the woman released him as she fell to the floor.
Blackbane staggered back to the corner of the room. A searing pain spread from the spot where the nun touched his throat. The fire-like agony covered his upper body like a blanket, enveloping him in an overwhelming sense of being roasted alive. Blackbane pitched forward as he screamed in pain. His mind went blank and he grabbed the burning wound on his neck with both hands. He rolled back and forth, moaning and groaning while his body trembled uncontrollably from the scorching anguish. It seemed like hours before the agony slowly faded away. Sweat covered the captain when he finally regained his awareness.
Lying on the stone floor next to the dead woman, he rolled away from the body. A glint caught his eye. He was staring into the small opening in the corner of the room where the woman was attempting to escape. Barely large enough for a person to slide through, the dark square entrance revealed a shimmering flicker coming from the blackness inside.
Blackbane crawled closer. A wooden panel lay across the floor in front of him. It hid the opening from those searching the room. He realized the nun must have heard him and she was trying to hide. The sound of her opening the panel caught his attention.
Then, he recognized a faint light in the darkness, deep inside the entrance.
A candle! What in blazes is in there?
The captain picked up his sword and pushed the blade past the entrance. He could hear the scraping of the steel across the stone and his eyes beheld a single candle at the other end of a cut stone pathway.
A hidden passageway!
No longer feeling the pain in his neck, Blackbane became entranced by the hidden passage. Scrambling through the opening, he came into a passage which opened up above him. He lifted himself to a crouch. The flickering candle ahead of him showed the low, vaulted ceiling of cut stones. His bearded face smiled grimly as he moved toward the candle. Reaching end of the passage, he found steps leading down into the darkness. The captain picked up the candle, then paused.
If the nun was trying to get in here, who lit this and left it?
A shiver ran through him, but his face twisted into a deadly expression. He saw a door at the bottom of the steps.
"Someone is in for a surprise!" He thought.
Blackbane quietly followed the steps until he reached the entrance. He pulled back on the rusted handle. However, the door didn't budge. With a strong tug, the door finally gave way with a nerve-racking squeal as the rusty hinges opened.
Inching forward with the candle held out in front of him, Blackbane noticed dark shadows in the room. Then, he saw something gleaming gold. Licking his lips at the thought, he stepped forward. However, the first wood step gave way and the man fell into the dark room.
Landing on a stone floor, Blackbane grabbed his knee in pain while he heard his sword clatter across the rock several feet away. A couple of deep breaths and the man looked around. The candle remained lit after landing near him. Above him was a statue. Picking up his light, he slowly rose and stared at the face of the archangel Remiel who scowled down at him. Blackbane knew his bible well enough to recognize the angel was a fallen Watcher and one that God who led those that rose from the dead when Judgement Day arrived. The stone statue was cut in a way that muscular figure with wings appeared lifelike. Dressed in armor, the angel held a sword in one hand and a staff in the other. The staff was topped with a round crystal. It appeared like an eyeball which appeared to stare down at him in the flickering light. The hairs on the back of his neck rose but he scoffed at the statue.
"Another statue to scare the children," he declared aloud. "Old Captain Hornigold told me about your fairy tales."
As he looked around, he saw more statues of the archangels. Michael, Raphael, Gabriel, Uriel, Saraqael, and Raguel were standing on pedestals in a circle around the room. Each angel held a weapon in their hand. On the opposite side of the entrance, he briefly noticed the entrance to a tunnel. It explained how the statues got into the room.
However, a large object in the center of the circle captured his attention. It was covered with a dry-rotted tarp and a shimmer of golden color came through the holes in the cover. Blackbane reached out a hand, then drew away at sudden intense pain in his neck again. Still, the greed inside him won out. He ripped away the tarp and stepped back in silent awe. A giant golden cross stood over him. Elaborately engraved with Greek and Roman letters, it beckoned to Blackbane. His heart raced as he considered the treasure. There was enough gold in the cross to pay for a fleet of ships and more pirate crew.
I could create my own barony somewhere!
Blackbane stared at the riches before him. He stepped closer, blinking his eyes to ensure that the golden cross was not a mirage. The man reached out and touched the cross. He felt the cool metal as he slowly slid his fingers across the beam. Again, the fire in his neck increased and Blackbane slowly retreated. As he admired his find, he didn't hear the soft sounds occurring behind him.
The statue of Remiel began to move. Barely perceptible at first, the hard stone slowly transformed, rippling as the figure's flesh became flexible. The angel quietly took a step off its podium. Remiel walked closer to the pirate captain until he was just behind the man. The angel cocked his head as he observed Blackbane staring transfixed at the golden cross.
A moment later, the captain felt the agony of a sword blade entering his back. He looked down to see the silver blade sticking out of his belly. Blackbane fell to his knees, grabbing the cross while he slid to the floor. The captain clutched his belly before falling to the floor. He rolled to his side in agony. He lifted his hands but there was no blood on them. Still, the intense fire in his belly remained along with dizziness that filled his brain. He frantically pulled open his vest and shirt, exposing his abdomen. There was no wound.
"How can I be dying?" he wondered aloud in astonishment.
Remiel stepped next to Blackbane. He rolled the man over on his back using his foot. The angel's skin carried the alabaster color of stone and his face held no emotion. Remiel placed the staff with the eye directly in the center of Blackbane's chest.
"The man called William Marshall is dying. Your soul is damned, and your earthly body dies at the stroke of my sword," the archangel stated.
"You've done a terrible evil against the chaste and righteous in this world. You will suffer eternal punishment. I'll let you covet this gold cross with your dying breath before I give you to Hell."
Blackbane stared up at Remiel. Then, to the surprise of the angel, he let out a foul laugh. His voice crackled with bitterness.
"You think I'm afraid of Hell. Since my whore mother cast me into the street, I know how worthless a soul is," the dying man spit out viciously. He laughed again, then groaned as he grabbed the staff. Blackbane tried to push it away but he didn't have the strength.
"You say that we're built in the image of God. That means everyone is a bastard for hellfire, just like me."
Remiel looked at the unrepentant human at his feet, his eyes blazed with fury. The angel kicked Blackbane who groaned loudly as he painfully rolled away.
"Blackbane sides with the demons who recognize people are nothing more than foul vermin," the captain cried out with an agonized glee. "The devil knows my black heart comes from self-righteous jesters. I only regret not living long enough to kill and rape more. Give me that sword and I'd happily cut down you damned messengers of God." His lungs heaved as he gasped for the air to cough out a laugh.
Perturbed, the angel turned away. He began to pace back and forth. Remiel kept glancing over at the captain. Blackbane attempted to lift himself, then fell back to the floor. He smiled when he recognized that the angel was thinking of some way to make the man suffer even more in his death.
"You son of a bitch, I fear nothing. I die but I'll not cower before you," the captain sighed smugly as he felt death creep through his body.
The angel stopped his pacing and gave Blackbane a foul smile. Remiel turned to the statue of Michael next to him.
"He believes he knows much about pain and suffering. Perhaps God should reveal a bitter truth to his black heart?" After a pause, the angel nodded in agreement with the inanimate stone figure. He turned to the pirate.
"This will not end as you foresee," Remiel said. "God has another plan for you. The merciful Lord sends you in a different path, a destiny filled with torment far beyond what you can even comprehend."
"Let's get this over with," the dying man coughed out. "Just send me to hell so I don't have to listen to your babbling nonsense," Blackbane let his head fall back on the hard stone. He was ready to meet the devil and give him an earful.
"Ignorant fool, you don't understand," the angel gloated. "You believe you know your fate. However, you're in for a rude surprise. In your lust of wealth and envy for power, you believe that having an inherently evil soul would achieve your goal. That is never the case, every mortal is given a soul of grace. Now, you will learn the lessons of eternal salvation through a trial." Remiel's hideous smile widened.
"Your earthly body will not perish on this morning."
Blackbane felt his muscles surge at the news and he gave Remiel a disbelieving look. The statue came back and knelt by the man. The foul grin remained on the angel's face.
"Instead of death, you will now live as an immortal creature," the angel said. "God decrees that you will be cursed. Your lust for treasure will condemn you to seek treasure for God now."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Blackbane flexed his arms and moved his legs in disbelief.
"You claim that I'm condemned. Then, you're telling me that I've got a pardon?" He raised himself to his elbows. The area on his neck where the nun touched him still burned like fire. However, he no longer felt the suffocating of his lungs. Energy began to surge into his body.
He's letting me live. God is such a fool!
"The Lord is not the fool, William Marshall. You are!" Remiel ridiculed Blackbane for the thought. "No, you don't have a pardon. You have something suitable for your bitter soul. I told you that you're cursed."
"Hell, I've been cursed from the start! God is a jester if he thinks I care about some nonsense like that," the man sneered. "No wonder the devil wins all the time."
The angel bent over and backhanded him.
"I know you have read the scriptures," Remiel reminded the pirate. "I bring about divine visions. In my vision for you, I foresee a future of unbearable violence and blood for William Marshall."
"You are no longer the hunter, instead you will be hunted. It is judged that every corner of the world where you turn will lead only to cruelty that brings you suffering. This is the curse of Blackbane."
"Hardly a burden," Blackbane stated confidently. "I'm still determining my fate."
"You believe so? Remiel cocked his head as he stood. "Your new-found immortality brings more pain and suffering than you can possibly imagine. Immortality carries an energy that all demons seek. With it, they can control and raise more of their kind. Upon your curse, now the seven deadliest demons seek you. Each enjoys the thought of ripping your soul from your body. It's energy will give power for their creatures of the night."
Remiel reached down and grabbed Blackbane by the collar of his coat. He picked the man up effortlessly with one arm and then poked his finger into the captain's neck. Blackbane instantly screamed out in pain. His body shuddered and convulsed while he hung in the air.
"You believe you carry no conscience. But from this day forward, you will learn that your past forever haunts you. The dead will return to madden you. There is no refuge from your nightmare. It is the burden you will carry until Judgement Day."
"But I'm working for God now. You said so," the man replied with a growing arrogance. "I could suddenly get religion."
"You are condemned to live until doomsday," Remiel sneered and dropped Marshall who fell to his knees.
"Apparently, you're not intelligent enough to realize your plight. God just placed your soul between good and evil. He left you with no entry into heaven or hell. Should you give yourself up to the demons, they will rip you apart for the immortality inside of your body. Your body becomes a vessel for them to use as they please. Once the body is discarded, I can foresee a demon splitting apart your soul to feed their creatures. You've seen what a spider does to a fly. You'll beg for such an easy escape from life."
He smiled at the thought.
"Think of it! Conscious and aware of everything these many foul creatures do and think, yet unable to escape. In a way, your living soul will intertwine with every demon that suckles upon your immortal energy. It's such a fitting end to your existence, William Marshall."
Blackbane didn't like the way Remiel chortled at him before he walked back to the pedestal. The angel stepped on the platform and turned back to the prostrate man.
"By the way, you can't get to heaven either. A few Hail Marys will not cleanse your soul. And you will never purge your foul spirit with your lust for the unattainable. Like a ghost, you're condemned forever to walk the earth while you search for golden things you cannot hold. Always on the run from creatures which seek to consume you," the angel explained with glee.
"The only way you get out of this curse is live until Judgement Day. You do that and maybe God will find you a place in his kingdom." He paused and grinned at the captain.
"I wouldn't hold my breath."
With a snap of the angel's fingers, the room temperature suddenly dropped and dark shadows rose from the floor. The shadows slowly morphed into figures of men and women; their pale faces indistinct at first. After a moment, the specters closed around him and he recognized them. He was looking into the faces of those people he killed. He tried to remind himself the ghosts were not real, just figments of his mind.
Blackbane rose and slowly backed away. He hurried toward the door. Then, the beautiful face of Emma Watson hovered in front of him. He stopped in disbelief. It was the spirit of his first love and his first murder. Her face turned into a skull. Her ghost rushed into his body as the icy chill enveloped his insides. The frost burned him in the belly and his lungs felt heavy. He had the sensation like falling into a vat of ice water.
This is your baptism!
Blackbane wasn't sure if it was his voice that he heard in his head.
Suddenly, the black-hearted scourge of the high seas remembered the night of his first coldly calculated killing. Each moment of the night was replayed. Only, this time he witnessed and felt everything as the victim. Over the next hour, he endured the entirety of Emma's tragic experiences. His body and mind endured the savage, brutal rape followed by the agonizing death by strangulation. Blackbane tried to scream as his face turned blue. Eventually, he died only to be reborn when the woman's phantom finished.
He lay on the floor gasping for breath when the ghost of a boy knelt next to him. Blackbane barely remembered the face.
"You killed me for a shilling on the docks of Jamaica," a young voice reminded the captain.
The specter entered Blackbane so the man would witness a drunken captain demand the child's last shilling. Then, he felt the pain and shock as a knife blade entered his body. However, the blade didn't kill the young boy instantly. Instead, Blackbane suffered the torment and agony of being left for dead in the filth of a dark alley while other drunken sailors walked past him only a few feet away.
Each soul which died at the hands of Blackbane returned with a vengeance. Forcing the unrepentant man to suffer the death they bore, the ghosts of Blackbane's past came forth. An eternity later, the mother superior of the abbey entered the body of Blackbane. By that time, the man was in tears as he begged and pleaded to the wraith to end his madness.
~~~
Inside his stinking cell buried deep inside a fortress located between the sea and the lagoon of Tunis, Blackbane found another roach to add to his small meal. With no money to pay the guard, the former captain gathered whatever crawled or scurried inside his six by six stone room. His daily existence consisted of waking to hunger and thirst while hoping his weekly ration of stale bread and foul water would arrive. Days no longer meant anything to the condemned man except the vain hope that the executioner would arrive. Otherwise, Blackbane sat on the foul stone floor and tried to think of a way out of his prison. The prisoner also tried to avoid sleep. As promised by Remiel, sleep only brought the reoccurring visits from his ghosts. Sometimes Blackbane decided he might already be insane from his lack of sleep and food.
The men of the Diano Marina found Blackbane wandering the beach that morning after the pirates attacked the convent. The sailors came upon their captain who was on his knees in the sand, bitterly crying as he stared up into the heavens. Nearly incoherent and not recognizing his men as he cried out curses at God, Blackbane paid little attention as they forced him to the small boat. He continued to babble about the archangels and immortality.
Hamidu was already waiting aboard and the Muslim corsair leader ordered Blackbane thrown in chains for the return trip to Tunis. When the ships arrived in port, Hamidu ordered Blackbane taken to the court of the Beylik of Tunis. A fat man with a long white beard and a dozen wives, the Beylik controlled many of the tribes and cities in the area. Despite several years of successful raids which brought a fortune in gold, silver and slaves to the Beylik, Blackbane received no sympathy while he stood in chains before the ruler. Hamidu condemned Blackbane as an apostate. He claimed his madness came from Blackbane's lies concerning the whereabouts of the gold cross. Several crewmembers of Diano Marina came before the Beylik where they agreed with Hamidu's charges.
Blackbane barely paid attention to the words, his mind still rattled from his experiences. After the Beylik gratefully accepted several of the young nuns to become his new wives, he sent the condemned captain to his prison cell. His words finally brought William Marshall to the present.
"Be grateful that you will die from the blade of an ax when I command it," the Beyik told him with feigned sympathy. "To die behind the oar as a galley slave is not worthy of a fighter like you."
"Well, either you or God will be surprised by the outcome!" May you feel the curse that I've seen?" Blackbane suddenly grinned when he replied in Turkish. He laughed as the guards removed him from the building.
A month later, Blackbane still remained in the prison awaiting his execution. He wondered why it was taking so long. In a small way, he decided the ax would convince him of his immortality, once and for all. Then, he was just as certain that everything he experienced was his madness. Even the scar on his neck was nothing but an illusion.
"Captain, I've caught a rat. I'll be eating like the Beylik today," Bingham's voice came from cell next to Blackbane.
"You're a lucky dog," the captain agreed gruffly in English as he stood from the cold floor. Using their native language made it next to impossible for the guards to eavesdrop on the conversations. Because of Bingham's continued loyalty to Blackbane, he was ordered to the dungeon as well. However, the captain wasn't in a mood to talk at the moment. Blackbane was focused on escape. When he was led away from the Beylik's palace, he overheard news of a war in the Baltic Sea. Where there was war, there was opportunity for treasure.
To hell with Remiel and his curse.
He'd survived the maddening encounters with the phantoms of his victims. He could live with their nightly haunting of him. Now, he just needed to escape.
"I'll get what I want, then I'll tell both heaven and hell they can kiss my pratts," he said. "That damned fat Turk will never get my head!"
Blackbane openly talked to himself at times since his capture.
"I might be able to help you keep your head," a sultry voice spoke from behind Blackbane.
Whipping around he found a woman inside his cell. She stood in the corner; her bluish face slightly luminous among the dark shadows. Dressed in a long black robe, she pulled back her hood to reveal white hair which dropped across her shoulders. Her thin face and expressive dark eyes gave her a stern expression yet there appeared to be an underlying innocent sexiness to the woman.
"And who are you?" The man asked as he glanced at the bars on his cell. They remained solid. The hairs on the back of his neck rose. The man suddenly remembered the words of Remiel.
"You may call me Naamah," she said softly. "I come to offer you a way out of your death."
"Captain, who is over there?" Bingham voice crept into the cell. Blackbane told him to be quiet.
"Naamah is not a name I know, yet you creep into my cell. What is your purpose?" The man inquired. Despite her tempting look, the woman's underlying darkness filled the room. She pouted at his question, but her eyes watched him like prey.
"I thought that was clear. You may escape with my help," she told him as she silently stepped closer to him. She sniffed the foul air. "I smell your lust for me. It mixes with your fear."
"I fear nothing, wench. You will learn the smell of my hate for those who come to me with lies. Unless my mind is truly shattered, you are the first demon to come to me," he said. "State your terms or leave me to find out whether I starve or lose my head."
The pout crossed her face again and she drew closer.
"I'm not really a demon, no matter what you may think," she replied smoothly. "I'm a lost soul like you. I bore the children of an archangel on an agreement. In a way, I'm condemned as you are."
"It is a sad tale, I'm sure. But I trust souls even less then demons at the moment," Blackbane tried to remain in control of the conversation. The woman's demeaner bothered him. He suspected something sinister lay behind it. Yet, he remained enticed by her looks and manner.
"Yes, you enjoy what you see but you correctly know there's a need to be cautious," Naamah told the surprised captain. "That's right; I have some ability to read minds."
"Woman, tell me who's your master? I feel another presence behind you," he told her. Blackbane resolved to remain wary of her.
"I have no master," she told him hotly. Then, her demeanor turned innocent again. "I heard of your plight from Asmodeus. He told me of your immortality, but he believes Remiel has laid a trap. Now, he bides his time, for he doesn't believe you will survive the ax," she explained. "Should you survive the execution, then he will come and remove your soul. Asmodeus is most unpleasant when he discovers that he is wrong."
"Alright, that only tells me that Asmodeus must be your master," Blackbane observed sourly. "You have something else in mind. Get to the point woman."
"I stand before you with my own reasons," she replied. "Now do you want to escape or not?"
"What makes you think I won't risk my head? Hell, I'm immortal. The damn ax will break," he told her with certainty. "You want something with my soul. Otherwise you would not come to me."
"I don't care about your soul," she told him with a sly smile while she slid next to him. The man didn't pull away.
"I have a question for you. Does the great Blackbane risk death on someone's word? Who is to say that Remiel was honest with you? Faith requires your full and complete submission to the will of God," she reminded him. "Do you have such faith?"
She whispered the question with a whisper and he felt her hot breath on his earlobe. The temptress brushed her hand along his back.
"I'm not afraid of an ax," Blackbane declared. "Death takes me to hell. It is my path since I left Boston as a ship's boy. I need a reason for you to help me."
She smiled mysteriously. The fair air of a salty ocean breeze came to his nostrils with her so close.
"With the right help, you can live until judgement day. Isn't that what you seek? With me at your side, you can become like Samael," she said. "In return, I only have need for your seed. Your offspring is what I seek. It is the exchange that Samael gave me."
Blackbane frowned, wishing he knew more about the stories from the Bible. He suddenly thought of stories about the djinn. The supernatural creatures acted like magicians delivering hidden truths which were treacherous to those accepting their words.
"I don't trust you. Your request seems too small of a price to pay for your help. You are hiding something from me," he said.
"This is true," she stated. "But my secrets remain with me. Now, you have little time to decide. It will be the ax or my offer. Otherwise, you can bargain with the executioner who comes for you."
He scowled at her while he considered the idea. Blackbane knew he had the courage to die for treasure. He had the blood of many men stained on his hands to prove that. But relying on faith to God was something never really considered. Yes, the ghosts filled his nightly dreams. Somehow, he learned to handle their maddening nightmares. Blackbane realized he carried no convictions.
Do I really believe that I'm immortal?
"Do we have a deal? You hear the sound of boots coming down the steps," the woman pressed him. "Are they coming for you?"
A split second later, a procession of men entered the narrow passage at the far end of the dungeon. Blackbane turned and pressed his face against the iron bars. He saw the small group of guards whose forms could barely be seen. They walked toward his cell. His mind raced for a decision. Finally, he relented.
Mating with a demon sounded better than dying.
"I'll take your deal but only if Bingham comes with me," he hastily told the woman. She smiled and took his hand. The symbol on Blackbane's neck turned red and he felt the burning pain on his neck grow intense. He tried to disregard the sensation.
"Follow me," she said as she led him to the stone wall. The woman walked right through the cut stone. Blackbane hesitated, then he felt her strong grip pull him forward. His eyes widened as he watched his hand disappear through the stone. The blink of an eye later, Naamah and Blackbane were standing in the dungeon cell of Bingham. The first lieutenant stood in his dingy white and breeches. He appeared to be getting dressed for his execution with his blue vest halfway over his arm. He pushed his back against the bars in terror. His blue eyes glanced back and forth at his captain and the woman. He mumbled something under his breath.
"I'll explain later," Blackbane told his short friend, then turned to the woman as the footsteps drew closer.
"Now what?"
Naamah gave a sigh and grabbed both men by their arms. She pulled them with her as she walked to the inside wall of the dungeon. An instant later, the trio was inside a dark storage room on the other side of the prisoner's cells.
"They'll have quite a time trying to understand how you escaped," she boasted. "No doubt a few heads will roll when the Beyik doesn't like their answers."
"She's a witch!" Bingham yelled out as he scrambled away from the woman. He could only place himself on the other side of a barrel. Naamah stood between him and the door. The terrified first mate's round face paled while his red hair, long and dirty, fell across his face. He looked like a cornered baboon to Naamah.
"Calm down, you damn fool. She's not really a witch and she's on our side," Blackbane said. He glanced at her.
"Well, that's for the moment at least."
"What kind of sorcery do you call that?" The first mate shakily asked, still seeking a way to leave.
"It's much older and more powerful than a witch," Naamah scoffed. "Why is he coming along? He is mortal and stinks of fear."
"Because he's loyal to me and part of the bargain," Blackbane growled back. "Enough of this bickering, we need to leave this fort and get to a ship."
The room went silent at the question as the captain looked at his companions. He rubbed his neck, feeling the scar in his neck. It felt hot to his touch.
"We have the sea on one side. I can't take you through the walls and end up in seawater," the woman told them. "We'll need to walk out through the main gate."
"Well, there's only one way to leave this room," Blackbane said. "Let's find out where the door leads. Come my loyal friend; let's find whether or not I'm truly mad!"
~~~
It was dusk before the trio finally escaped from the fortress. Along the way, Blackbane and Bingham found white robes hanging near a courtyard which they stole and put over their clothes. They also cut away parts of another robe to fashion rudimentary turbans. The effort made them appear less conspicuous as they made their way the passage to the gate. When they reached the entrance into the fort, the two men paused at the sight of guards. They crouched behind the corner of the wall. While they whispered to
"Just be quiet," Naamah told them as she walked toward the two guards in their colorful, bellowing uniforms. As she drew close, they appeared uncertain about the woman in the strange attire. They made the mistake of letting Naamah come too close. Instantly, her long arms transformed into nebulous, smokey tentacles which lifted the men from the ground. The guards grabbed for their throats as the nearly invisible strands of her shadow wrapped tightly around their throats. By the time, Blackbane got to the gate, both guards were dead. Naahah's ghostly tentacles faded away and the dead men, with their tongues hang out of open mouths, fell to the ground.
"Christ protect us," Bingham said as he automatically crossed himself. Naamah's arms solidified into a normal shape while she gave him an evil glare.
"Get their weapons," Blackbane ordered the first mate as he carefully approached Naamah.
"Your secrets appear in your powers as well, demon woman. Is my fate to look like these men when you finish with me?" He asked. The question caused her to pause.
"I assume you are stronger and smarter than such pawns," she replied as her face displayed the innocence of a young child. "I'll do far worse to you if you forget our deal."
The woman in black turned away and started walking to the port. Bingham stepped next to his captain and handed him one of the guard's belt which held a sword encased in a leather scabbard.
"Captain, we must get away. You've made a deal with the devil," the first mate told him under his breath. "I didn't realize you were in earnest when I overheard your conversations with her back in the cell."
"Aye, everything you've heard and seen is true. It appears I'll need to learn the ways of demons quickly if I'm to survive what's coming," Blackbane agreed as he started to follow the demon ahead.
"I'm more worried about those mortals around you," Bingham observed. His tone was even but Blackbane sensed his anxiety.
"I have no words of comfort, my loyal friend. I've followed a path to hell and you have remained trustworthy even to the point of death. I would not betray you with a lie now," Blackbane said quietly.
"As I've rotted in that cell, I've tried to discover another path. But my soul is too black for redemption. You've seen how demons will call me out. I have only enraging dreams tells me nothing. You would do well to follow another captain."
The two men went silent at the thought. Only the sound of their footsteps on the hard packed ground and the distant rush of the surf could be heard on the still night. The dark form of Naamah remained ahead of them. Both men realized her footsteps could not be heard.
"I know you as William Marshall," Bingham finally spoke. "You remember when I joined the Ranger? I don't forget it was you who kept that damned Black Sam Bellamy from stringing my neck from the yardarm. While you're not fit to enter a church, you've always shown loyalty to those that follow your orders. I'll walk the path to hell or worse with you."
Blackbane nodded. Built on battle and blood, each man held an admiration for the other. To Blackbane, it was stronger than a mere friendship.
"Then, let's catch up with our lady friend before she kills the crew we'll need to get us out of Tunis," the captain replied. His grin remained partially hidden by his flowing beard.
After walking along the empty road until the moon peaked above them, Blackbane saw his ship still moored on the dock.
"The crew will never follow you," Bingham warned him when he saw the captain's eyes staring at the dark silhouette. "Even Seymore became first mate under Hamidu. Too many of the men witnessed your bouts of sanity. They believe you are a lunatic."
"After meeting that woman in black, perhaps you're a lunatic as well," the captain joked.
Bingham grinned as his friend looked back to the ship. Blackbane's eyelids narrowed at the sight of only a single person on deck. The watch wore the turban of a Turk.
"Still, no matter who the men of the Diano Marina follow, we're not going far without my maps and sextant," the captain decided with a growl.
~~~
Ishak bin Yaqoob, known as Hamidu to the English sailors on the ship, lay next to his latest harem acquisition. The young woman was captured during a raid of a small village in Sardinia a few months before. Now she was asleep after properly serving her master. As the undisputed leader of the Tunis pirates, Hamidu always sought more wives for his harem. Young Christian girls brought top prices on the market and he had the gold to pay. The one beside him was a blond beauty. Druda was her name and she bore noble blood. As his slave, the woman would bear him many sons. Slaves and wives were a leading commodity and symbol of status for the Muslim rulers along the Barbary Coast of North Africa. And Hamidu had every intention of becoming a ruler over land to go with his growing fleet of ships.
The bearded man was drifting into a restless sleep which always happened before he set sail on another razzia into the infidel lands. The raids into Spain and Italy meant the enslavement of Christians for the Ottoman slave trade. It was as the Prophet desired and it also brought him fame and fortune. Eventually, it would give him the title of Beylik of Tunis.
As he rolled over in bed, he heard the sound of footsteps on the deck above his cabin. The sailors on watch must be making their rounds, he decided. Only his most loyal servants remained aboard. Most of his pirate crewmembers were onshore, whoring in the taverns. The pirates were a mix of religions and backgrounds. And they remained pirates first and foremost. Their skills suited Hamidu. He knew they would accept their new captain as long as treasure filled their hands after a raid. But, he also had his Muslim servants who helped maintain control of the ship. They would never betray him like the crew did when he condemned Blackbane. No need to beat them. All it took was a little extra gold.
In some ways, pirates were easier to handle than slaves.
With his rival out of the way, Hamidu vowed to the crew that his renamed ship would remain the terror of the Mediterranean. Blackbane's ship was unusual for the pirate fleet. A sailing vessel with thirty guns, it struck fear into the slow merchant ships. Unlike Hamidu's galley which required slaves to man the oars, the ship's crew skillfully handled the sailing ship and they were fearsome when boarding. With Blackbane now dead, Hamidu had control of a vessel with speed and sufficient cannon to dominate the trade routes. When the sun rose in the morning, a new era would begin. A smile crossed his lips as he drifted off into sleep.
Hamidu drifted out of his pleasant thoughts when heard the sound of footsteps outside the cabin door which roused him. A moment later, there was a startled muffled cry which immediately turned into a gurgling noise. As the man grabbed his sword which hung from the bulkhead, he pulled out his dagger as well. The door opened slowly. The dark outline of Hamidu's guard stood in the entrance. He entered the room, holding his throat. Suddenly, the guard fell to his knees as the blood spilled through his fingers and he toppled on the deck. A large, familiar shadow stood in the entrance with a short broadsword.
Blackbane!
Hamidu roared out curses in Turkish as he charged. The two large men met in the center of the cabin. Their swords struck together with a loud clang, while the woman tried to escape from the room. Neither man noticed as they backed away a half-step. Each was looking for an advantage. Blackbane attacked, swinging his sword as he sidestepped closer the bed. He glanced at his rapier still hanging on the bulkhead. It was displayed there as a trophy.
Hamidu countered his opponent's swing, stepping over the body of his guard. His dark eyes carefully followed the movements of Blackbane. He understood the ex-captain was a skilled swordsman. But Hamidu had God on his side. He attacked trusting his sword forward. Blackbane stepped aside but the blade passed through his robe and embedded into the wood behind him. Ensnarled by the blade, Blackbane swung his sword up. His move was anticipated by Hamidu who blocked the swing with his long blade dagger. Hamidu closed in on his prey who tried to pull away. The sound of ripping fabric mixed with the heavy breathing of the two men.
The cloth gave way just in time as Hamidu swiped his blade at Blackbane's face. He followed up by swinging his sword at Blackbane. This time, Blackbane expected the move. Hamidu's strike missed its mark as his opponent parried the blade away. In a fluid motion, Blackbane sliced down with his right hand. The thick sword blade cut through Hamidu's arm. He screamed from the injury and fell back against the bulkhead. Blackbane grabbed his rapier from its mount, and then whipped around as he sliced his victim across the belly. Hamidu stared down at his entrails trying to fall from his abdomen. He slid down. Looking looked up in disbelief at Blackbane who stepped back, Hamidu's eyes glazed over and his corpse toppled to the deck. Blackbane slid his sword into his scabbard, the master of the Diano Marina once more.