Dennis McKiernan - Once upon a Spring morn

Celeste smiled and said, “They say the music of the Fauns does the same to women.”

“Music of the Fauns?”

“Oui. A type of Fey. They have the legs, tail, and ears of a deer, but the faces of handsome youths. They play white willow-root pipes, and somehow women, or, rather, females-be they human, Elven, Nymphs, or ought else-become completely entranced. So, my love, to fall prey to something over which you have no control whatsoever, ’twas and ’tis no dishonor, for I know you love me still.”

“How did you know I was feeling dishonor?”

“Your look told all, Roel.”

“My look?”

“Oui. When the singing first came riding on the wind, you looked at me in distress, as if you were somehow betraying me, yet I knew that you were helpless before the lure of the Sirenes.”

A fleeting smile crossed Roel’s features. “It was an ordeal, though not an unpleasant one.”

“Careful, my love, for my clemency only goes so far. Absolution, I give you, but I’d rather not hear the details.”

“Oh, but I didn’t, I mean, I-”

Celeste broke into laughter. “I’m teasing you, cheri.” They lay together in the narrow bunk, with Roel propped on an elbow gazing down at Celeste. And still a gentle rain in the night fell across the Eagle and the sea, the ship now running toward the pirate stronghold on the isle of Brados. All the crew had hailed the princess for bearing them to safety, and though she acknowledged their praise, all she really wanted to do was rest, for she was completely wrung out. And so, after a hasty meal, she and Roel had retired.

Of a sudden Celeste grew sober and a frisson shuddered up her spine. “Your ordeal might have been a pleasant one, but mine was anything but.” Roel kissed her on the forehead and said, “Yet you managed to get us free.”

Celeste put her hand over her mouth and yawned, then said, “ ’Tis a miracle I didn’t founder the ship, scraping against the stone as I did.” Again she yawned.

“Miracle? Mayhap. Yet I ween the Fates are yet watching o’er you.”

“O’er us,” murmured Celeste, and then she fell asleep.

Dawn came upon a fair ocean, the sky clear, a goodly breeze blowing from just starwise of sunup. Standing nigh the helm, Chevell called to the mainmast lookout,

“Any sails, Thome? Lateen? Sunup or sunwise.”

“Non, My Lord Captain. The sea, her bosom be empty,” came the reply from the crow’s nest.

“Keep a sharp eye, then, for the corsair; she’s bound for Brados as are we.”

“Aye, aye, my lord.”

Chevell turned to Florien. “As soon as anything is sighted at all, let me know.”

“Aye, aye, my lord.”

“Pass the word on to Armond when he relieves you,” added Chevell.

“Oui, my lord, I will.”

Chevell retired to his cabin to break fast. In the passageway he met Celeste and Roel, just then emerging from their own quarters. “Join me, Princess, Chevalier.

And, my lady, there’s something I would discuss with you o’er the morning meal.”

“As you will, Captain,” replied Celeste.

Hewitt brought gruel and fresh-made bread and a pot of tea, along with a daily ration of limes. As Chevell ladled porridge into the bowls, he said, “Princess, if we don’t see the raider by midmorn, I’ll have to break off the pursuit.” He held up a hand palm out to forestall her objections. “It merely means we cannot o’ertake the corsair before it reaches safe port in Brados. Yet even though we break off, I still plan on going after the map, but I would not have the lookout on Brados espy our ship, for that would put them on alert.” Chevell looked at Roel and smiled, and then turned back to Celeste.

“Instead, we’ll need use stealth and misdirection to get the map: Sieur Roel and I will free-climb the citadel walls in the night and retrieve the chart, while Armond and the crew provide a suitable diversion.” Celeste nodded and said, “And my role would be. .?”

“I would have you remain on the Eagle and be safe,” said Chevell.

Celeste looked at Roel, and he smiled. But she frowned and said, “Did you not tell him I can free-climb as well, cheri?”

Roel sighed. “Oui, I did.”

Celeste turned to Chevell and cocked an eyebrow.

“My lady, with but two of us, just Roel and me, we will likely go unnoticed, especially with the proper diversion.”

“Three is a small party as well, Captain,” said Celeste, “and just as likely to go unnoticed, with the proper diversion, that is.”

Now Chevell sighed and looked at Roel. “You said this is the way it would be.”

Roel nodded.

Celeste now turned an eye on Roel. “Plotting behind my back, love?”

“Celeste, I knew you would come, but the good captain insisted he make an attempt to dissuade you.”

“Blame it on me, would you?” said Chevell. Then he burst out laughing.

Soon all three were laughing, but finally Chevell retrieved the drawings and sketches he and Roel had pondered over. As he laid them before Celeste, he said,

“Very well, Princess, should the corsair escape us this morn, here be the plan so cleverly contrived by Roel; hence this be the way we three will go about retrieving the map.”

Midmorning came, and still the lookout had seen no corsair or ought else for that matter, but for a distant gam of whales blowing. And so Chevell, now adeck, altered course, setting the sails to come by circuitous route to the far side of the isle of Brados, where they would most likely not be seen. “Besides,” said the captain, “ ’tis there where lies beached a single-masted sloop we can pull free at high tide.” He turned to his first officer. “Armond, put Geoff to work on making sails for that craft. Her mast stands at some thirty-five or forty feet, her boom at twenty or so. A main and a jib ought to be enough.”

“Aye, aye, My Lord Captain.”

As Armond strode away, Celeste at the helm said,

“Will a small sloop be enough, Captain?”

“I should think so,” said Chevell. “It, along with part of the crew in the dinghies, should provide the distraction we need.” 138 / DENNIS L. MCKIERNAN

Celeste nodded and onward they sailed, the far side of Brados their immediate goal.

In midafternoon they dropped anchor in a small, narrow inlet, the isle itself a large and rocky upjut of land roughly circular and some five miles across, its craggy interior filled with scrub and twisted trees, though here and there groves of tall pines stood. The shoreline was nought more than a rocky shingle, sand absent for the most part, but for the root of the cove, there where a hull of a sloop lay on its side. Massive blocks of stone reared up along this part of the perimeter, and off to the right the brim of the cove was a long cliff of sheer rock rising up from the sea and curving away beyond sight.

Men lowered dinghies, and, leaving Armond and a small crew behind, the rest put to shore, Celeste and Roel among them. As they beached the boats, Chevell said, “Ensign Laval, take your part of the men and begin cutting brush and making the preparations we discussed. Lieutenant Florien, you and the rest will deal with the sloop. Princess, Chevalier, we’ve a long stroll ahead, but I know a path that will somewhat ease the way.”

Chevell and Celeste and Roel marked their faces and wrists-all exposed flesh-with streaks of burnt cork, and Celeste bound her pale golden hair and slipped on a dark hat to cover all, and then they donned cloaks as well. Finally, armed and armored, the trio shouldered rope and grapnels and climbing gear and set forth, the captain in the lead. And up into the craggy land they fared, the day warm and humid, the way rough in stretches, while at other places they passed through with surprising ease. Celeste found it strange to now be walking on a surface that did not pitch and roll, and it took her a while to lose her sea legs. Birds with bright plumage fluttered among the occasional grove, and lizards skittered across the way. Now and again a snake would slither off into the rocks, and once a boar stood as if to challenge them, but then fled through the crags.