Princess of Wind and Sea Read online

  “The prince and the colonel were able to calm the crew. It made a big difference,” he said. He bid her farewell and boarded the dispatch boat back to the Cara.

  Patrick leaned over the patient, feeling his pulse. The youngest physician on the voyage, his boyish looks belied his deep experience treating disease and battle wounds. He contemplated the diagnosis and left in search of Aisling. He approached her with the news.

  “Commander, it looks like the crew ate contaminated seafood. It’s quite serious. We can treat them here now, but I recommend we take them to shore as soon as possible. They need concentrated care.”

  “All right. We’ll have them transported.” She turned to Ryen. “What are the options?”

  He examined the charts. “Cadiz is closest.”

  “Patrick, do you have any medical contacts there?”

  “I know someone who runs a dispensary. They will be treated well.”

  “Let’s move the fleet there, then. That includes the Santa Ana.”

  As Drayaen approached, she and Ryen went to meet him. “We’ll need some volunteers to protect the ship and cargo until they recover,” said Aisling.

  He nodded. “The colonel and I can handle security. We’ll need experienced crew to handle the workings of the vessel.”

  “Ryen, how many men would you recommend?”

  “At least ten, maybe twelve.”

  “Ask each captain if they can provide at least one officer. That way, we’ll spread out the burden. Once they’re settled, let’s get underway.”

  “Aye, Commander,” he said, “we’ll proceed to port.”

  “Raise the flag. Anchors up,” he said to the nearby sailors. They scurried to maneuver, and the ships headed for shore.

  Dawn was breaking as they approached Cadiz. The sky was radiant, with warm tones of deep amber, in stark contrast to the frosty silver and cerulean blues of the city and surrounding seas.

  Aisling and Drayaen stood on the deck, watching as the harbor grew closer. More than one hundred watchtowers dotted the coastline, providing a beacon for merchant ships. For city dwellers, the towers were sentinels from which to view incoming boats laden with goods and potential riches.

  She glanced at the prince, and smiled. Since leaving the Kingdom of Lions, he had recovered from his ordeal. It was a relief to see him so full of spirit and energy. She reached out and grasped his arm. This is the last leg of our journey, she thought, and then we’ll be home.

  Her thoughts turned to the secret network. She recalled tales of her father’s visits here, to Cadiz. Based on notes in her Book of Magic, his previous voyages had not been focused on merchant trading alone. One of Lord Bailey’s secret contacts listed in the Annals of the Four Masters was a person who was known to many, Carlos III, the King of Spain. Perhaps the encounter with the Santa Ana was fate after all, she thought.

  *

  The messenger was breathless as he hastened down the gilded halls and entered the interior chambers of the Royal Palace.

  “I have an urgent message for the Prime Minister. It’s confidential.”

  As the doors flung open, he scanned the crowd and spotted the Count de Florida Blanca, standing before His Majesty, reciting an update of the latest court news. He was outfitted in elegant attire, from his white powdered wig and embroidered velvet frock coat to his matching vest and lace cuffs.

  While the count’s update was intended for the broader audience, his focus remained on the king.

  His Royal Highness was perched in his gilded cupola and dais of gold, flanked by velvet burgundy brocade curtains and four Medici bronze lions. Red silk armchairs and gold-backed seats with red plush padding were arranged in neat rows, flanking the throne.

  Additional chairs for the audience in the inner sanctum were arrayed in front of the king, bordering the House of Bourbon emblem etched into the marble floor. On each side of the room, crystal chandeliers cast sparkling shards of light across the chamber. The walls were adorned with intricate tapestries and ceiling frescos in shades of amber, red, and blue.

  The immense portraits of the royal family, eyes cast outward into the chamber, appeared as though they were casual observers of the proceedings from above.

  As the count neared the end of his address to King Carlos III, he noted the presence of the courier in the back of the chamber. After delivering his speech, he waited until the next of the king’s ministers began his report, and strolled to the rear of the hall. I do hope this isn’t too urgent, he thought, as he made note of all the issues the king had asked him to resolve.

  “It seems like a never-ending task,” he muttered. “You have a message for me?”

  The emissary bowed with downcast eyes and handed over the dispatch. He accepted the missive and wondered about the nature of the latest crisis. He never anticipated this one. The communication was written from one of his retainers, and it was cryptic.

  “Secret shipments of gold lost at sea. More information will follow as available.”

  Well, it was going to be a long night.

  The count sighed as he tucked the note in his vest pocket and hurried out of the Crown Room in search of answers.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CONVERSATION WITH THE KING

  Captain Romero of the Santa Ana raised himself on one elbow to peer at Patrick. “Is my ship still intact? What happened? What about the cargo? My men?”

  “They’re recovering. It was very dire at one point. It appears that you all suffered a severe case of food poisoning. Without treatment, you would have died.”

  With a raspy, unsteady voice, the captain continued his inquiry. “What of my ship? The goods?”

  Patrick cast him a reassuring glance. “You’d best talk with our commander to get the details. The Saoirse boarded your vessel and placed officers with the crew to protect your interests. From what I understand, your merchandise was retrieved.”

  “Your commander. What’s his name?”

  “Princess Aisling.”

  Romero put his head back down on the pillow. “I don’t think I’ve recovered yet. I thought I heard you say that your commander is a woman.”

  “Aye,” said Patrick. “One of the best officers on the high seas.”

  The captain struggled to sit up. “I must send an urgent message. Can I trouble you for a quill and ink? I’ll need a reliable courier as well,” he implored, as he laid his aching head on the pillow.

  Depending on the reply, he thought, there may be no treatment for the fate that awaits me.

  *

  The Count de Florida Blanca stood in the formal gardens of the Palacio Real de Madrid. After summoning the Minister of Economy and Finance, he paced in the courtyard, deliberating the best course of action. “Of course, the king will have to be told,” he muttered. As the palace doors opened, the Marqués de Esquilache hastened down the walkway, past the fountains and reflecting pools.

  He caught up to the count, and the two men proceeded to walk farther down the terrace, away from onlookers.

  “What’s the issue?” the marqués asked, his acute gaze fastened on the count.

  “We have a problem. My agent tells me that the Santa Ana was in distress. I don’t know the details.”

  “The cargo?”

  The count shook his head. “There’s nothing definitive yet. It may have been compromised.”

  The marqués considered the options. “Send emissaries to Cadiz, in secret, of course. Have them dispatched within the hour. Keep me informed. I’d like to have all the information before I tell the king.”

  “I’ll put the plan in motion.” The count mulled over the implications of the disaster and realized the magnitude of the issue. If the court found out about the secret cache of gold being shipped out of the country, there would be dire consequences.

  “I’m confident you’ll handle this. I’ll take my leave now,” replied the marqués. He bowed to his compatriot. As he walked toward the palace entrance, he glanced back. “Find out why a message of this
importance was received from a retainer and not the captain himself,” he muttered.

  The count shook his head in acknowledgement and thought about how much he’d like to keep his position at court.

  *

  Aisling and her officers gathered in front of the storage rooms on the port bow. She turned to face Ryen. “How many crates did we recover from the Santa Ana?”

  Her first officer checked the inventory sheet. “It looks like sixteen. We’re not sure of the contents. It took several men to hoist them aboard.”

  Aisling nodded and turned as the surgeon trudged down the deck and approached the group. “You’re back. How are your patients?”

  “I’m pleased to report they are all alive. That was one of the worst cases of food poisoning I’ve seen to date.”

  “Nice job, Patrick. When will their captain be up and about?”

  “Romero is awake, but still in pain. He should be able to resume command of his ship in a few days.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. Are you returning to the dispensary?”

  “Aye, Commander, this morning if you’re in agreement.”

  “Fine. Please deliver a note to Captain Romero while you’re there. I’d like to unship the cargo from the Santa Ana. He needs to be here to accept the merchandise and ensure an official transfer.”

  “I’ll deliver the message as soon as it’s ready.”

  Aisling turned to Ryen. “Once we coordinate the remaining details, we can proceed to sea. Please tell the others.” The sooner we can return the cargo and resume our voyage, the better, she thought.

  *

  The count sat at his writing desk in the palace. “Of all the ships out there, why did it have to be this one?” he muttered, pressing his fingers against his forehead. He turned around at the sudden knock at the door. One of the king’s messengers entered and bowed.

  “I have an urgent missive from his Royal Highness.” The count sighed. The marqués must have told him the news. He extended a lace-cuffed hand for the message.

  Its content was quite brief. “I will accompany you to Cadiz.”

  “Well, how interesting,” he considered. “I’ll have no time to assess the situation before I debrief the king or the marqués.” We’ll have to face the news together, he thought, whatever it may be.

  The king’s retinue rushed to organize his impromptu trip. Since this was to be a clandestine journey, a mere one hundred retainers were chosen to escort the entourage, including security forces, personal surgeon, chaplain, chef, valet, butler, footman, coachman, head groom, multiple cooks, drivers, outriggers, and of course, his dog. After a coordinated effort by man and beast, the cadre departed in a billow of dust, clamoring down the pristine avenues of the palace and out into the wild.

  The captain of the Santa Ana awoke to hear a flurry of activity near the door of the dispensary. As he glanced over at the commotion, he could see Patrick, the medical staff, and a messenger. “Wait,” he murmured, “that looks like a retainer from the palace.” At once, Romero felt as though his recovery was complete. As he struggled to sit up, the doctor hurried to his bedside.

  “The prime minister has been informed that you and the crew are here. He is coming to pay you a visit.”

  “He can’t see me like this. I must get back to my ship.”

  Patrick shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t allow that. You’ve suffered a great illness. You must stay until you’re well. I won’t brook any opposition.”

  The captain blanched as he considered the implications. “This is worse than I thought,” he muttered. He slumped back onto his pillow, wishing he were elsewhere.

  The count sat in the carriage behind the royal procession. As they traveled out of Madrid, through Mérida, Zafra, and Seville, he mapped out his plan. If the gold was in someone else’s hands, they could pay to get it back. If, on the other hand, the gold was lost, then they would have to raise more funds. His approach sounded reassuring, but it wasn’t that simple.

  The count sighed as he straightened the cuff of his sleeve. He needed answers, and his mind wandered as he listened to the incessant barking of the king’s dog.

  Aisling had dispatched a message to the captain of the Santa Ana a week earlier and was surprised that she had not yet had a response. He must still be very ill, she thought. “I’d like to transfer the cargo and leave port as soon as possible,” she muttered. As she stood on the upper deck in front of her quarters, she saw Ryen and Drayaen hurrying toward her. “What is it?”

  “Commander,” said her first officer, catching his breath, “come now.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “You have a visitor.”

  “Who is it?”

  “The King of Spain.”

  “What! Here? Now?”

  “Aye. He’s asked to see you and the prince.”

  Aisling was eager to meet His Royal Highness Carlos III, a member of the secret network. As she surveyed the dock, she saw him, in all his regal splendor.

  He wore a cloak, embroidered with the House of Bourbon emblem, replete with matching hat, gloves, and scepter. Near him was an impressive looking man in a white wig and long frock coat, holding a leather portfolio.

  They were followed by an entourage of liveried servants.

  The king looked up as Aisling and the prince approached. She curtsied before the sovereign. He waved his arm and motioned for her to rise. “Ah, my fellow kinsman, mi pariente,” he exclaimed. “I knew your father well. He was my dear friend.” He leaned forward and spoke in low tones. “I’m sorry for the loss of your parents and uncle.”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty. I appreciate your kind words.” She turned to Drayaen. “This is my husband, Fifth Prince of the East Kingdom.”

  Drayaen bowed. “I’m pleased to meet you, Your Majesty.”

  The king nodded. “I, too, am happy to make your acquaintance. I know of your father. We have never met, but I’ve heard of his admirable work.” He motioned to both of them. “Now we shall be allies as well.”

  “We would consider it an honor,” said Aisling.

  “Well, my dear, that is why I am here. I’ve heard that I owe you and the prince my gratitude. Your recovery of the Santa Ana and its cargo was an act of bravery. We are indebted to you.”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty. Many men were involved, including my fleet and the crew of the Santa Ana. Her captain has been most concerned about his ship, cargo, and crew.”

  “Yes of course, we are most appreciative.” He glanced at the count, who was farther down the dockside, and turned back to Aisling and Drayaen. “That gentleman is my prime minister, Count de Florida Blanca. He has been in contact with the captain of the Santa Ana and will work with you to ensure transfer of the goods.”

  “Of course. The prince oversees our security. He can direct your men to our storage room.”

  “Before you go, I would like to reward your efforts.”

  Aisling smiled at the king. “Prince Drayaen and I were happy to help. There’s no need to feel obligated.”

  The king shook his head. “No, no, I insist. The count will provide you more details. I must depart, but I wish you a safe voyage.” He raised his arm to signal the retinue that they were leaving.

  He moved closer to Aisling. “I’m confident you will do a fine job, taking over your father’s role as head of our organization,” he said in a quiet voice. “If I can do anything to help, please know that you can count on me for support.”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty. We are most grateful. I hope to have the pleasure of seeing you in the future.”

  The king smiled. “We will meet again,” he said, as he turned and paraded back to his carriage with the entourage, his dog yipping at a courtier’s heels.

  The count walked down the dock toward the Saoirse and thought he was dreaming. From a distance, he saw a woman on the upper deck, one hand on the railing. Her red cloak swayed in the breeze, her long golden hair in a queue to one side. She was surrounded by officers in unifor
m, and a powerful looking young man with long hair, dressed as a warrior. That must be Prince Drayaen, he thought.

  As he moved closer, Aisling came into view. He was astonished to see how young she was. Not to be missed was the weapon fastened to a shoulder holster, and the sword and scabbard at her side.

  The count’s men lined up behind him. He bowed to Aisling and the prince. “It is an honor to meet you both.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you also, Prime Minister,” said Aisling.

  “Commander, I wonder if we might have a private meeting before taking possession of the cargo.”

  “Of course, please come with us.”

  He followed Aisling as she directed him to the quarterdeck at the stern of the ship. Inside was her planning room, situated within the Captain’s Quarters.

  As the three of them entered the cabin, the count glanced around the light and airy space. There was a round mahogany table with matching chairs and colored maps on several of the interior walls. The large windows and skylights provided a panorama of the bustling docks and bay waters.

  “What an excellent view you have here,” he said.

  Aisling glanced out the window. “The scenery is most exceptional. You have a wonderful city.”

  A diplomat and a commander, the Count thought. A most interesting combination.

  The count sat down and removed some papers from his leather case. “Do you have someone in charge of freight that I could speak to? I’d like to find out how many crates were recovered from the Santa Ana.”

  “Yes, of course. The prince has the details.”

  Drayaen nodded. “There were sixteen in total. The cargo has remained sealed since it was pulled onboard.”

  The count’s expression lightened. “Excellent. That means we have accounted for all of the merchandise.”

  As he made notes, Aisling remembered her father’s advice: Those at sea belong to an unofficial club, with the exception of pirates of course. Always be supportive when you can. Aisling interjected. “Prime Minister, I was sincere when I mentioned that the officers and crew on the Santa Ana did their best. I hope there are no negative repercussions for them.”