NetNews Usenet Archive 1992 #27/NN_1992_27.iso/spool/alt/pub/dragons/4210

Text File | 1992-11-19 | 6.5 KB | 119 lines

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From: [e-mail] (Aaron Humphrey)
Subject: [R] Bronwen[Arcas]: Fraternizing With The Prisoners
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Date: Fri, 20 Nov 1992 03:40:58 GMT
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Almost, Bronwen offered to share Angus's quarters the night after the battle.
But she did not.

She kept picturing Vanshar's face, and how he had told her that the Captain had
wanted her specifically.  She knew nothing of him but his name--Captain
Etienne-Remi de Revimer.  Somebody had said that he must be Ydoinais, with a
name like that, but Etienne-Remi himself had said nothing after volunteering
that information.  By naval law, he was not required to say anything more, and
was further entitled to better treatment than the other prisoners.  Such were
the perquisites of being a Captain, even a pirate Captain.

So the Captain was given a cabin, instead of sharing a cell in the brig.  He
was kept under guard, and had sworn on his word of honour to attempt no escape.
Nonetheless, his weapons were confiscated and he ate his food with a wooden
spoon.

She didn't know if the Captain was allowed visitors, but it was worth a try.
The guard was one of the ones she had healed, so he was easily swayed.  He
was reluctant at first to let her in, because she could be easily taken
hostage, but she just smiled.  "I've dealt with the advances of worse than he
before," she said.  So he stood aside and opened the door, locking it again
behind her.

The Captain had been asleep, and was only half-dressed.  A lantern had been
lit, and she got the first real chance to look at him.  His face was not nearly
as harsh as she would have expected, showing at least the traces of soft
living.  But it was laced with scars, as was his muscular bare torso.  He
smiled wryly.  "I'd offer you a seat, milady, but as you can see, they haven't
left me much furniture."  His voice had a strange accent--Ydoinais, she
supposed.  "So to what do I owe the honour of this visit?"

She bit her lip, and then came out with it directly.  "Your Rameshander friend
told me that you gave orders to capture me."

He smiled.  "I rather suspected that was it.  Yes, I did.  I make it a custom,
with every ship that I raid, to take one of their women as my own.  You were
the obvious choice, being by far the most beautiful I have yet seen aboard
this vessel.  I only regret that I did not triumph, and claim you as my prize."

Bronwen had not expected her forthright remark to provoke an equally forthright
reply.  She was nonplussed for a moment.  "Captain--"

"Please, my dear," he said, suddenly smiling charmingly, "call me Remi."  He
held his hand out to her.  After a minute's hesitation, she placed hers in it,
and he brushed it with his lips.  "May I have the honour of knowing the name of
she I worship?"

"Bronwen," she said, pulling her hand back from his loose grip.  "My name is
Bronwen.  I am a priestess of Lugh Long-Handed."

Remi nodded.  "I know of Lugh.  He had worshipers in Ydoine at one point.  They
were wiped out in the reign of Philippe V, along with all of their people.  The
ones that weren't wiped out were sold to Rameshan or driven into the mountains.
Some of their women, of course, were kept, but forced to renounce their gods
and turn to Issek.  The hypocrites among them were eventually found and
flogged, and their children grew up in the true faith."  He smiled wanly.
"Perhaps one day the same will happen to those who follow Issek.  I myself
follow Manannan Mac Lir, for Issek has little power in the ocean.  My mother
is descended from those who did not forget."

Bronwen had come to this room prepared to hate this man, to find a lecherous
beast whose evil face she could spit in and curse from the depths of her soul.
Instead she found a man who lusted, but a man of reason.  A man who knew of the
history of his gods, and of their treatment in his homeland.  A man who had
known persecution, and had perhaps grown bitter.  "Why did you become a
pirate?" she asked.

Remi raised his eyebrows, surprised at her question.  "Why did you become a
priestess of Lugh?  No, perhaps that is an unfair question.  In my case, it
was simple enough.  I was a merchant.  I sailed this ship through these same
waters, watchful of pirates.  Laurent was my first mate.  We were successful.
My family were rich.  Laurent is my cousin, you know--he is also a de Revimer.
Revimer is a small, forgotten town in the north of Ydoine, but our great family
came from there, clawing our way to the top in the courts of Naix.

"When it came out that my mother still followed the old faith, and that she had
taught me in it as well, not having any daughters to carry on her tradition--we
were ostracizes.  Those who had once bought our goods now left them to rot in
their holds.  My father died of the strain, and has a pauper's funeral.
Laurent and I sailed, losing hope day by day.  One day in Pashar, we met with
Vanshar bes-Vanshar, who was the sole survivor of the ship he had crewed.  I
had sunk low enough already.  Why not sink even lower, to piracy?  I would have
a ship, I might get money, and, perhaps, I would be respected.  I have made no
secret of my name--the ships of Ydoine all know that they have been pillaged by
a de Revimer, by a heathen.  The Cote d'Azur is the same ship I sailed as a
merchant."  Then his eyes darkened.  "Or it was.  Now you have burned it, or
your friends have.  Now I have no ship, and I am being taken to a port where I
will be shipped to Ydoine and hanged.  And all because I had the misfortune to
attack a helpless passenger ship bearing a beautiful priestess of Lugh and her
powerful friends."  He turned roughly away from her.  "Go.  And ask if they
can send me some wine.  I am sick of being awake with my thoughts."

Bronwen opened her mouth and closed it again.  Then she fled.  The guard asked
very solicitously if the prisoner had troubled her, and she shook her head,
hiding her tears from him.  Then she made her way to her chamber, praying she
would not encounter anyone to ask questions of her.  Lugh granted her prayer.

She didn't know herself why she was crying.

--
---Alfvaen(Looking for "October's Baby")
"Lucille was secretly thrilled when Norman sucked her toaster."
   ---B. Kliban
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