The Blacksmith's Daughter

By Patrick John Donahoe

The Blacksmith's Daughter is the third book in The Fellowship of the Ancient Covenant series. The Four's ancient adventures include Ian's and Jacque's service as Template Knights, Desiree becoming an apothecary, and Serena becoming a ship's captain. In modern day, the Four serve as a strike team to thwart the Select's use of nuclear weapons to create chaos. The Select are positioning themselves for world domination, an only our four heroes can stop them.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mill Creek Publishing
• Release date: Jul 24, 2019
• ISBN: 9781944337131

Patrick John Donahoe

Pat Donahoe enjoyed his first career as an engineer, and now enjoys writing in Southern California, and traveling the world with his wife. The Honorable Knight is the first book in his Fellowship of the Ancient Covenant series.

Book preview

The Blacksmith’s Daughter

THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE ANCIENT COVENANT

Patrick John Donahoe

Mill Creek Publishing

San Diego

Mill Creek Publishing

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events are entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2017 by Patrick John Donahoe

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. This work is published in the United States of America by Mill Creek Publishing, San Diego.

Visit Mill Creek Publishing on the World Wide Web at

www.millcreekpublishing.us

Cataloging in Publication Data is on file with the Library of Congress.

LCCN: 2017916713

Mill Creek Publishing

ISBN-13: 9781944337056

ISBN-10: 1944337059

First Edition

Contents

Acknowledgments

Prologue

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Twenty-Two

Twenty-Three

Twenty-Four

Twenty-Five

Twenty-Six

Twenty-Seven

Twenty-Eight

Twenty-Nine

Thirty

Thirty-One

Thirty-Two

Thirty-Three

Thirty-Four

Thirty-Five

Thirty-Six

Thirty-Seven

Thirty-Eight

Thirty-Nine

Forty

Forty-One

Forty-Two

Forty-Three

Forty-Four

Forty-Five

Forty-Six

Forty-Seven

Forty-Eight

Forty-Nine

Fifty

Fifty-One

Fifty-Two

Fifty-Three

Fifty-Four

Acknowledgements

MY THANKS TO my son, Jason, who encouraged me to take my writing seriously, and cofounded our company, Mill Creek Publishing. I thank my wife, Patty, for putting up with an author, and for creating Andrea’s makeup, and taking her photograph for the cover.

I thank Andrea Tagalog for modeling for the cover photo, and Tim Kimble for creating the book cover.

Prologue

Führerbunker, Germany; 20 April 1945

THE SECOND WORLD War was nearly at an end. The Russians would run over Berlin in a few days, and the Americans would arrive about the same time. Serena’s and Ian’s mission was to kidnap Hitler from his hideout, a squalid bunker retreat beneath the Reich Chancellery, and take him into Allied territory. Hitler was to be tried in an international court of law where his, and the Nazi’s, monstrosities would be revealed to the world.

Serena heard the eerie screams of Stalin’s Organs piercing the sky, then felt the explosive thumps when the Katyusha barrages of forty-pound explosives struck the ground off in the distance.

Serena and Ian folded their parachutes by the minimum light of a crescent moon, then stuffed them under a rock near the edge of the woods. They each slipped on loose fitting German army khaki shirts and pants over their black leggings and T-shirts. They pulled on black stocking caps and applied black soot to darken their faces. When they gained entrance to the bunker, the German soldier disguises would give them the seconds they needed to surprise those inside. Ian and Serena were both steeled to killing everyone inside the bunker, if necessary, to kidnap Hitler alive. If they were caught they would be shot as spies.

Ian surveyed the area with his binoculars. A handful of faithful soldiers stood between them and Hitler’s hideout. The sentries were difficult to spot in the minimal light. When he was satisfied that he knew how many sentries stood in the way, and their locations, he mentally noted the safest route to the bunker’s entrance, following the tree line to the extent possible. He handed the binoculars to Serena.

She silently confirmed his assessment by pointing out her sightings.

Ian would get them into the Führerbunker, with his hand to hand combat skills. Once they were in Hitler’s presence, Serena would take the lead in the kidnapping, then Ian would lead them away to safety.

German children had become soldiers as the war was brought home to Germany. The Nazis had conscripted youth as young as 12 years old, and pumped them up on the Nazi propaganda of hate, which, for the most part, they didn’t understand.

Ian felt saddened that he might have to kill one, or more, young green soldiers along the way, but the sooner Hitler was stopped, the more lives would be saved on both sides. He hoped Jacques’ knock out formula, and innovative cuffing devices, would do away with the need for killing children, otherwise he couldn’t afford to leave a sentry alive who might sound the alarm before they could escape.

Serena followed closely behind Ian looking to the right, left, and above, as four eyes observed better than two. They hid behind a tree between them and the first sentry.

The boy sentry, dressed in a uniform two sizes too large, leaned against a tree. With his rifle hanging loosely from his right hand, he was going to be too easy to overcome. Ian couldn’t see his face, but he imagined a cherubic face with peach fuzz, and maybe one, or more, stray whiskers. He didn’t want to kill the boy.

Ian dashed from behind the tree, and placed his right hand with the chloroform soaked cloth over the boy’s mouth and nose to stifle any scream. He grabbed the boy’s rifle to prevent it from clattering to the ground. He pulled the boy’s arms behind him, and lowered him to the ground, slipped Jacques’ handmade plastic cuffs on the boy’s wrists, cinched the cuffs tight, then gagged the boy with a knotted pair of nylons.

Jacques had tried to interest the Army in his innovative handcuffs, but the generals decided to put his ideas aside until the frenzy and stress of ending the war was over.

Serena put the sentry’s helmet on over her black stocking cap and re-stuffed her long dark hair up inside. She followed Ian to the next forward tree and surveyed the area again. The next sentry in their path appeared to not have noticed anything unusual.

Ian rushed forward and immobilized the second sentry in the same efficient manner as the first.

It was doubtful that the Nazi’s had dogs to guard the bunker, since rations were in short supply. Ian would put down any dogs with his pistol and silencer, but maybe not before the dogs could create a ruckus. He studied the lone sentry guarding the above ground bunker entrance. This third sentry was relying on the light of the crescent moon the same as Ian. Ian hoped the sentry’s night vision was less sensitive than his own. He considered shooting the bunker entrance sentry from the cover of the trees. Otherwise, he would have to close the 30-foot distance and overpower the sentry, before he was spotted.

To Ian’s advantage, a small cloud passed overhead further reducing the visibility. He decided to crawl from small bush to small bush, over the otherwise open ground toward the sentry, all the while prepared to shoot the boy if necessary.

Serena remained ten feet behind Ian to minimize their visual profile.

Once he was within 20 feet of the sentry, he waited until the sentry seemed inattentive. Fortunately, the sentry pulled a small bottle from his breast pocket, removed the lid, and started to shake out the contents. Ian sprang into action. The child soldier seemed to be more concerned with not dropping the contents of the bottle than defending himself. Ian immobilized the third sentry easily, in the same efficient manner as the first two.

Ian placed the third sentry’s helmet on his own head. He saw a few pills scattered on the ground. The soldier held onto the pill bottle while unconscious.

Serena took the pill bottle from the sentry’s hand, and put it in her breast pocket. She searched the sentry’s pockets for the keys to the entrance. Upon finding the keys, she unlocked the door.

Ian and Serena didn’t know what conditions they would find inside the bunker. Hitler and his henchmen might all be awake worrying about the imminent encroachment of the Soviet army. Ian could only hope that the o’dark thirty, 3:30 A.M., would find most of the inhabitants asleep.

They inched their ways down the dark spiral staircase to the bunker floor below. Ian’s acute hearing detected no activity in the near vicinity. They moved forward, weapons at the ready, to a juncture in the hallway. Continuing ahead, Ian saw a bunk room with a soldier snoring on one of the bunks. To the left was a meeting room with a table and empty chairs. They walked through the meeting room. A door on the left led to Joseph and Magda Goebbels’ suite. The floor plans Serena had received from Desiree at Bletchley Park were proving accurate. Ian led Serena through the meeting room to an opening on his right, the entrance to Hitler’s suite. Ian paused at the entrance to Hitler’s suite and saw two rooms. The first room, a bedroom, was dark, but a light glowed from the farthest room.

Ian and Serena walked through Hitler’s sitting room and stepped into the doorway of the second room, weapons drawn. They saw Eva Braun wearing a flowered dress with her legs curled up beneath her on a reindeer decorated, cream-colored sofa. She was dead. Foam oozed from her mouth.

Hitler sat on the opposite end of the sofa wearing a gray tunic adorned with the Gold Party Badge and the Iron Cross. The rest of his outfit included a khaki shirt and pants, black tie, socks and shoes. His pistol hung down from his right hand pointed at the floor. Perhaps, he was contemplating suicide.

Without a word, Serena stepped forward to capture Hitler, but he looked up and aimed his pistol at her. Serena fired one bullet from her silenced pistol, hitting Hitler in the forehead, killing him outright. He slumped over sideways, and bled onto the reindeer decorated sofa fabric.

Ian said, So much for kidnapping the bastard. He examined Eva, and whispered, She has a ring on her wedding finger. Maybe they married in the last few days. Looks like she’s been poisoned. Her face is red . . . probably cyanide.

Two teacups sat on the nightstand. The cup closest to Hitler was full, and the contents were cold. The other cup, had a lipstick smudge on the rim, and was empty. Two empty bottles of pills sat on the nightstand. One of the bottles was labeled with a skull-and-crossbones, probably the cyanide. Ian thought how ironic it was that Eva probably died from cyanide poisoning, the same as hundreds of thousands executed in Hitler’s death camps. Ian picked up the other bottle, and read the label. The pill manufacturer was Temmler, and the pills’ brand name was Pervitin. Ian showed the pill bottle to Serena.

Serena showed Ian the bottle she had taken from the sentry. The two bottles contained the same kind of pills, Pervitin, the brand name for methamphetamine. Serena had heard that Hitler was a meth and cocaine junkie. One rumor was that he received frequent shots of an opioid, brand named Eukodol, administered by Doctor Theodor Morell, the ‘Reich Injection Master.’ It was no wonder Hitler frequently exhibited erratic behavior. Meth addiction apparently filtered down to even the children soldiers.

Ian pointed to a dog lying on the floor in the corner. He whispered, "Rigor mortis has already set in on Hitler’s dog, Blondi. Those flecks of foam around its muzzle, indicate the dog was probably poisoned, too." He noticed a hand wound Victrola sitting on the end table, the arm not replaced on its stand. The Victrola needle sat at the center of a 33 1/3 rpm phonograph record labeled Blood Red Roses, Eva’s favorite song.

Best we get out of here while we can, Serena urged. She staged Hitler’s body so it rested on the left armrest. She removed her pistol’s silencer, and traded Hitler’s Walther’s PPK pistol with her own. Her intent was to make it appear that Eva and Hitler had both committed suicide, Eva with poison and Hitler shooting himself, taking the coward’s way out.

The escape would be easier without having Hitler in tow as a prisoner. Without Hitler, the mission wasn’t one hundred percent successful, however, the news of Hitler’s death would expedite the end of the war in Europe.

Ian turned off the light and hoped Hitler’s staff would allow the newlyweds their privacy, and not find the bodies before he and Serena were long gone.

Ian and Serena slipped out of the bunker the same way they came in. Ian applied fresh chloroform to the still unconscious entryway sentry and removed the cuffs. The sentry would awake with an incredible headache, probably too embarrassed to admit he had failed at his post, especially when Hitler was found dead. They hurried back to the tree line, removed the German uniforms, then headed for their pickup point south of Berlin. They didn’t want to be captured by either the advancing Soviets, or by the retreating Germans, and shot as spies.

One

Toulon, France; 1102AD

"LUC, I WANT to thank you again for throwing this party to celebrate the opening of our apothecary."

You’re welcome, Desiree. I’m happy to do it.

I know you are, and I appreciate all you’ve done for me. Hopefully, the townspeople will trust me enough to use my services.

They will. Of course they will. They will learn to love you as much as Gabrielle, Jacques, Ian, Serena, and I love you.

Luc tipped his glass to Desiree, and sipped the remains of his wine. He handed the empty glass to the waiter hired for the evening, and snatched a full glass from the tray. He took Desiree by the hand and squired her around the ball room. He introduced her to his invited guests, telling each one how proud he was of his beautiful and talented ward, Toulon’s new apothecary.

Desiree looked around her shop. The shelves were well stocked with almost all the herbs and medicines known to be beneficial to man. Ian had helped her with the selection based on the old apothecary’s notes, such as they were, and the most likely illnesses Desiree would have to cure based on Ian’s Book of Healing. They had kept the medicines that the old apothecary had maintained in fresh and potent condition, and thrown away those he had let become stale and useless. Ian gave Desiree two copies of his Book of Healing, one in French and the other in Arabic. Ian’s books were up to date with everything they knew about illnesses, diseases, medical conditions, medical procedures, and medicines they had collected over the past two years.

She stared out the front window of her shop on her first day as the town’s apothecary. The sun was past midday in the sky. She had opened the shop four hours earlier, but not one person had come to her for help.

When she hadn’t been preparing her shop for opening day, she visited with Luc and Gabrielle. They were doing well, but needed occasional attention. Desiree encouraged Gabrielle to curtail Luc’s wine tasting as much as possible, but he insisted his drinking wasn’t excessive, and Gabrielle was hard pressed to have much influence on him where wine was involved.

Desiree knew she was a stranger in a strange land, a Muslim female in a provincial French town, asking the townspeople to trust her for medical assistance. How could she have been so foolish to think she could break down prejudicial barriers against women healers, established over hundreds of years, especially a Muslim female healer? They might consider her as something akin to a witch doctor, thinking she had potions for love, or murder, or worse. The old apothecary had become absent minded, and his medical expertise included leeches, and ill-conceived medical treatments, but he had become a fixture in the town over the past thirty years.

After all, Frankish men were still crusading against Muslims to maintain Frankish control of Outremer. Just because Luc and Ian believed in her didn’t mean anyone else would, and they didn’t count because they believed in almost everyone.

Her melancholy was interrupted by a loud, insistent, ‘Knock . . . knock . . . knock’ on the door. Desiree jumped to her feet, What? Enter . . . please, she called out. She strode to the front door and opened it.

The town sheriff, a strapping, handsome man, stood at the door holding a young girl in his arms. My Cherie . . . must help her, he blurted out with tears in his eyes.

She ushered the Sheriff inside, and said, Lay her on my examination table.

The Sheriff gently laid the girl on the table.

Desiree checked the girl’s pulse and found it to be about normal. She examined the girl’s skull and found a bloody spot on the back of her head. She checked the girl’s torso, arms and legs for injury. She discovered the girl’s right arm was bruised, turning purple and brown, from the trauma, and the radius was probably fractured. What happened? she asked.

Gave her a horse for her birthday. She was excited to ride. She gave it too much reins. The horse galloped away. . . fell backwards. . . landed on her head and right arm. Will she be all right? the Sheriff blurted out. The anxiousness in his voice made him almost incoherent.

She’s unconscious from the fall, sir. Her pulse is weak, but steady. Don’t let her fall off the table while I gather supplies.

Desiree went to her supply cabinet and returned with two rolls of bandages, two splints, and a pair of scissors. She gently examined the girl’s forearm again, thankful that the girl was still unconscious. She determined the location and extent of the fracture. Fortunately, the fracture held together and didn’t puncture the skin. Since the bones had not separated, she physically pressed them tight together, hoping the girl would not wake in agony. Sir, please hold these two splints tightly against each side of her arm, like this, while I wrap the bandage around them.

Without comment, the Sheriff held the splints in place.

Desiree thought, I wish I could see the extent of the damage inside her arm, and insure the bones are aligned properly, before I wrap everything in place. Maybe someday, doctors will have a capability to see inside the body without invasive surgery. Invasive surgery is more likely to kill the patient, than whatever else was wrong. For now, this is the best I can do for Cherie.

Desiree wrapped the splints securely around the injured area with the first roll of bandage, covered the first bandage with a second, then pinned the end in place. Please watch over her while I prepare a bowl of plaster.

Yes, ma’am.

Desiree retrieved a bowl, a bag of dry plaster and a jug of water, and mixed the plaster and water to a thick consistency. She applied the plaster to the bandages and splints until no bandage was visible. She told the Sheriff, That should protect Cherie’s arm until the fracture heals. No more horse riding, or any physical activity that will damage the cast, for the next four weeks.

Yes, ma’am.

Desiree examined the girl’s skull again, and felt a small bump. She parted the girl’s hair around the bump. She would have to awaken the girl to determine if she had a concussion.

Hold her still one more time. Desiree went to her cabinet and brought back a bottle of smelling salts, opened it, and held the open bottle under the girl’s nose.

Cherie coughed, and awoke startled. She stared at her father, then at Desiree, and asked, Where am I? Who are you?" She started to sit up on the table, but the Sheriff held her down.

Desiree said, Lie still. You fell off your horse, bumped your head, and fractured your forearm.

Cherie looked at her bandaged and plastered arm, then reached for the back of her head. Ow, my head hurts.

Just relax. Desiree held two fingers in front of the girl’s face. How many fingers do you see?

Two.

Good. Do you feel dizzy, or nauseous? She opened each of the girl’s eyes and peered into them with her magnifying glass.

No, but my arm aches.

Sheriff, take Cherie home, and make her comfortable. Encourage her to sleep from the time you arrive home until tomorrow morning. If she has trouble getting to sleep, give her a half cup of warm water mixed with a half cup of table wine.

Thank you for all you’ve done, doctor.

I’m not a doctor, merely a nurse, and an apothecary.

The Sheriff assisted his daughter off the table. I’ll take her home now. What do I owe you?

Consider this call as a first visit gift for our Sheriff.

Thank you, but I will try to make this right.

Desiree followed the Sheriff outside as he carried Cherie to his carriage.

He sat her on the front seat, turned, and said, I’m glad we have someone we can count on to take care of our town. Our old apothecary was a fine man, but he was getting old and forgetful. I’ve had to take him home several times these past few months when he lost his way after an evening of ale and darts in the tavern. Thank you, once again.

Desiree watched the Sheriff drive off in his carriage. Maybe my situation here will work out after all, she thought.

Bright and early the next morning, as Desiree was having her morning tea, there came a knock at the door. She called out, Enter, the door is open.

Monsignor Barnard entered the shop, followed by the Widow Wicklow, who was pressing a damp handkerchief against her jaw and moaning.

Desiree, seeing the Widow was in distress, went to her side, and asked, What seems to be the problem?

I have this terrible toothache, and wasn’t able to sleep all night.

Welcome. Have a seat, both of you. Desiree led the Widow to a straight back chair, had her sit down, and said, Let me take a look.

The Widow opened her mouth.

Desiree was privileged to see the Widow’s yellowed, crooked teeth. One tooth had a large cavity, and the base of the tooth was red and swollen. The tooth next to the infected tooth also had a large cavity. You have two bad teeth: an infected tooth, and another with a serious cavity, ma’am. We need to extract them immediately.

Can you do it so it doesn’t hurt?

I can try. First, let me offer you and Monsignor Barnard each a glass of wine.

The Widow Wicklow stared at Desiree, then said, If you insist.

Monsignor Barnard nodded, Thank you Desiree. Do you mind if I call you Desiree?

No sir. Desiree poured a half glass of wine for the Monsignor, and a full glass for the Widow. Drink up.

What about you? Barnard asked.

I’ll finish my tea. I don’t have a toothache. Desiree sat across from the Widow and sipped her now warm tea. She watched as the Widow drank her wine and audibly moaned to herself.

Desiree reminisced about the Persian Book of Healing Ian had purchased for her, for them both, from a traveling merchant in Jerusalem. The book was compiled by a Persian scholar, Ibn Sina, better known as Avicenna. He included the medical achievements of Greek physicians, other Arabian physicians, and his own. It was a masterful book full of maladies that she and Ian had not even been aware of, much less had recommendations for treatment. Desiree was thrilled with the gift, and fondly remembered the many hours she and Ian had spent together including the new material into Ian’s books in Frankish and Arabic. Physicians in the Far East had discovered that opium poppy seed pods, and seeds, could be processed to make an excellent pain killer.

Ian had included a large quantity of the poppy seed pod analgesic in the herbs and medicines they had brought to France, to sell in the Marseille market, but he had retained enough to treat many toothaches. Tooth decay was one of the elderly’s most prevalent diseases, with most of them missing a few, to all their teeth. Desiree decided to make a cup of opium poppy pod tea for the Widow.

While you enjoy your wine, I’m going to prepare for the extractions, Desiree told them by way of explanation. She opened the tool drawer and picked out the pair of pliers she had had Serena fabricate for tooth extraction, a pair that curved and tapered to a pointed end. She measured out a tablespoon full of ground opium poppy pod, then filled the cup to the brim with hot but not boiling water, from the pot in her fireplace. The tea would be ready by the time she had the teeth extracted.

Widow Wicklow, I need you to lie down on my examination table.

The Widow hesitated.

You’ll be more comfortable.

The Widow looked at the Monsignor. He nodded assent to her, and she meekly walked to the table and lay down.

Desiree placed cushions beneath the Widow’s head and back to raise her up to a half sitting position. Without any waste of motion, Desiree brought the pliers out from behind her back, squeezed the Widow’s cheeks with one hand, forcing her mouth to open, inserted the pliers, gripped one of the infected teeth, pulled it out, dropped the extracted tooth on the table, reinserted the pliers, and pulled the second diseased tooth.

The Widow fainted from fright.

Monsignor Barnard, will you watch Widow Wicklow, so she doesn’t fall off the table?

I’d be glad to. The Monsignor stood next to the Widow while Desiree splashed some cold water onto two cloths, and wiped the Widow’s forehead with one.

What happened? the Widow asked, awake, but befuddled.

You have two less teeth, two less rotten and infected teeth. Would you care to see them? she asked in a serious tone, but smiled inwardly.

"Merci, no. Absolutely not."

Desiree handed the Widow the damp cloth, and said, You might want to spit into the cloth.

The Widow spat into the cloth, wiped her lips with a shudder, and laid the cloth on the table.

Desiree retrieved the cup of poppy tea and handed it to the Widow. Drink this to lessen the pain of extraction.

Monsignor Barnard helped Widow Wicklow into a seated position on the table.

The Widow took a sip of the tea, and made a face. This tastes awful.

Alternate the tea with the wine, but drink the tea down.

The Widow worked her jaw around. Desiree handed her the second clean damp rag, and said, You may want to spit into a cloth, again.

The Widow spit a glob of blood onto the cloth, wiped her lips, and laid the second cloth down on the table. She finished the rest of the tea and wine, and asked, What do I owe you?

There’s no formal charge for your first visit. You may deposit any donation you deem appropriate into the bowl by the door.

Thank you, Desiree. You are too kind.

You’re welcome, ma’am.

The Widow started to stand, but wobbled on her feet. Monsignor Barnard reached out and steadied her.

It would be best if you escorted Widow Wicklow home, Monsignor. The extractions, the wine and the tea have all had their effect on her. She needs to rest.

I’ll take her home in my carriage. Monsignor Barnard held the Widow’s arm and led her to the cottage door. He hesitated at the door long enough to deposit a few Frankish coins into the donation bowl.

The Widow Wicklow turned, and said, Thank you, Miss Desiree. You are an uncommonly good Apothecary. The Sheriff has only kind words to say about you . . . and rightly so.

Thank you, Widow Wicklow. Good day, Monsignor Barnard.

Desiree stood at her doorway and watched as the Monsignor helped the Widow into his carriage and drove away. Desiree thought, maybe the townsfolk will take me into their trust after all.

Two

Jerusalem; 1104 AD

THE PREVIOUS TWO years had passed quickly for Ian and Jacques. They continued to fulfill their duties as head guards. They led monthly patrols to protect Palestine, especially the road from Acre to Jerusalem. Jacques took on an additional duty as architect to rebuild some of the damaged parts of the city, especially the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. Jacques enlisted Ian to serve as his building foreman. With all these responsibilities to occupy their time and energy, they had little time to lament Serena’s and Desiree’s absences.

Louis completed his first voyage to Acre as the Captain of the Rose Verde carrying a full passenger complement of knights, sergeants, squires, and pilgrims. He made his way unannounced from Acre to Jerusalem to visit Ian and Jacques.

How are our parents? Jacques asked.

I’ve spent little time at the estate since becoming a sea captain, but Desiree looks after them. She told me they’re doing well, but they appreciate my occasional visits.

What about Desiree?

The townspeople of Toulon, and the surrounding countryside all love her. She’s been a great blessing in their lives. Everyone thinks highly of her medical skills. She brags about Ian and his Book of Healing, which she says she uses every day, and continues to add entries as new maladies and medical techniques occur.

What about Serena? Ian asked.

Louis raised one eyebrow, and replied, She’s a phenomenon. Other captains speak of her in reverent tones. Many sailors have approached her to be on her crew. She has the best cargo and passenger record of all four of our captains, including me.

Why am I not surprised, replied Ian.

What about Rosemarie? Jacques asked.

Rosemarie is having the time of her life running the shipping business, but the last I knew she was still not with child. She threatened Pierre with accompanying him at sea if she didn’t get pregnant soon.

Ian said, That should motivate the old rascal.

Tell us more about our parents, Jacques said.

Luc hired an overseer for the estate, a young man named Paul Dubois. He seems to be doing an adequate job. He manages the tenant farmers, the vineyard, the harvesting, the wine making, and the sales. He seems to be a diligent sort. Luc has taken more interest in the day to day operations since you and I haven’t been there, but his stamina is not enough to take care of everything. Gabrielle has had to let most of the staff go to cut costs, but it seems the estate is still as productive as it’s always been.

Do they need extra funds from us to meet expenses? Ian asked.

No, Rosemarie is already helping out.

Good. They can have our share of the shipping profits each year, if needed, Jacques volunteered.

If that becomes necessary, I’ll let you both know, but, for now, let’s revel in some wine, women and song.

Louis, I’m shocked, Ian said, in a mocking tone.

Why would you be shocked? I’m a sailor, aren’t I?

You’re a sea captain, Louis. Where’s your dignity? joked Jacques.

I’m ashore with friends. Dignity be hanged, replied Louis with a hearty laugh.

Three

Jerusalem; 1107 AD

JACQUES APPROACHED THE ships docked at the pier on horseback. He had received word of Serena’s arrival in Jaffa from one of the Amalfi merchants who had arrived in port with her.

Ian had to lead a troop of knights escorting pilgrims from Acre to Jerusalem. Jacques knew how disappointed Ian was to not be able to greet her in person, so he volunteered to go to Jaffa and escort her home. On the way from Jerusalem to Jaffa, Jacques wondered what he might say to her. They hadn’t seen each other for nearly five years.

He could tell from a distance which ship was Serena’s by the LeFriant family pennant hanging from the main mast. He hitched his horse to the post at the end of the gangplank. He spotted Serena talking to one of her crewmen on the main deck. Permission to come aboard, he called out.

Serena turned and waved at him. She practically ran to greet him as he stepped off the gangplank onto the main deck. She threw her arms around his waist and kissed him on both bearded cheeks, brushing her lips across his in the process.

He leaned slightly away, while still holding on to her, and said, It’s grand to see you again.

Serena reluctantly released her grip on Jacques. Come with me to my cabin so we can talk in private.

Jacques walked by her side. I want to hear all about your adventures, your romantic life, sailing from port to port.

Serena gave Jacques one of her, ‘you are so clueless’ looks. You could join me if you would.

I’m not much of a sailor, you know that. It’s like being in prison with the possibility of drowning, or being eaten by a shark.

Serena opened her cabin door, then after they were both inside, closed and secured the door with the wooden cross bar. I have so much to tell you, I don’t know where to start.

Start at the beginning.

Where’s my manners. We’ll celebrate with a drink, while we talk, Serena said. She opened the cupboard over her bunk, and removed a small wine cask. I’ve been saving this for a special guest.

Who might that be?

Well, you’re one. Sit, smart ass! Serena gave him a shove toward one of her two chairs. Make yourself at home. She uncorked the cask, and poured out two cups full of the grapey smelling liquor. I picked up a dozen casks in Catania. It’s Sicilian port. Be careful. If you imbibe too much, it will turn your teeth purple, and give you a splitting headache.

Jacques sat at her two-person table, accepted one of the cups, and took a swallow. Ooh, this is strong, and definitely not Frankish.

Serena offered to refill Jacques’ cup.

Thank you, no, one cup will be sufficient.

Serena grinned her beautiful wicked smile.

Tell me about your adventures, from the beginning, Jacques said.

Serena took a long swallow of her wine, and began, After we parted company in Marseille, Pierre interviewed each of my crew for me, and made sure they were trustworthy, then I sailed for Rome. The voyage was uneventful, but I realized I needed to replace my navigator. None of the crew liked him, and he was disrespectful to me. After I replaced him, I had a competent and respectful crew. Since then, Pierre has been scheduling me for the Marseille to Rome and Catania voyages, and back, until this trip. He finally gave me the Catania to Athens to Jaffa route. I haven’t seen my father, or you, or Ian for several years --

It’s been almost five years, Jacques interrupted.

. . . and I was anxious to see you.

And I you. What of my parents?

I try to visit Luc and Gabrielle when I can, but especially on Gabrielle’s birthday, and Christmas. They miss you very much.

And Desiree?

I see her on occasion. She has become a well-respected Apothecary, and healer, not just in Toulon, but the whole countryside from Toulon to Marseille.

Why am I not surprised? I plan to visit home, soon.

"Why not sail back to Marseille with me? You could get to know your nephew, Roland Cuers. Serena consciously placed an emphasis on ‘your nephew, Roland Cuers.’ He’s not a baby any longer, being about ten years old."

Jacques sat upright on his chair. He hadn’t considered that possibility. Sure, I’m long overdue to visit home. Serena’s unusual accent on ‘nephew’ sunk in. Jacques realized that Serena probably knew Roland was his son, but he resisted commenting on her implications.

Serena continued, You don’t have to worry about the cost of passage, since you and Ian are part owners of our fleet. I might have to put you to work though, Serena added with a smirk.

Ian never seems to tire of work, and he should go home, too, Jacques added thoughtfully.

How soon can you be ready?

Give me a day to return to Jerusalem, two days to take care of some personal affairs, and a day to return.

You have five days. I’m going to visit my father before we sail.

If you can be ready by morning, I’ll escort you to Jerusalem.

Good. Give me this evening to prepare for the journey and provide instructions to my crew. We’ll leave at first light.

Serena reached under her bunk and pulled out a small travel trunk, and placed it on the table. She opened the trunk, and said, I stay packed. I’ll just take out a couple of items, and add a couple more.

While you’re busy getting ready, do you have any food onboard? I’m starving.

Make yourself at home in the galley. Give me an hour, and I’ll join you.

Jacques took his leave. He found the rations in the galley not to his liking, so he gave the ship an inspection. The ship looked squared away, and in excellent condition. He would not have expected less from Serena. Jacques walked up to one of the crewmen who was busy braiding rope on the fo’c’s’le. Halloo, he greeted.

The sailor looked up at Jacques, and replied, Halloo, yourself, sar.

My name is Jacques. What’s yours?

The sailor stopped braiding the rope,