Michael Aye - The Reaper

Upon entering his father’s home, Gil was shocked at the appearance of the man before him. His decline in health was appalling. Nothing was familiar except the hand-carved meerschaum pipe his father had clinched between his teeth. Through calm seas and cannon balls, that pipe had always been there.

Upon entering his father’s room, Gil could see his father’s eyes light up. The fire was dimmed but not out. His father’s rough Scottish accent was still plain as he spoke, the voice still commanding though not as strong as it once was.

“I’m glad ye made it. I was about to have this lawyer set things down on paper the way I wanted them to be. I still will, so’s there’ll be a record, jus’ in case something should happen to me sudden like. I pray not, but it could.”

Gil nodded his greeting to the barrister. Lord Anthony paused to catch his breath, then started speaking again. “Now I can see ye be ripe and bursting with questions. However, I ask ye to hold ‘em for now, cause my time is short. There are things that have to be said and agreed upon. You can ask questions later iffen I’m still with the living.’’

Gil nodded his willingness to do as his father requested, thinking all the time that he was still acting like an admiral, in command right up to the end. Lord Anthony called Maria into the room. She came in and sat on the arm of the chair next to him. His father resumed his conversation once Maria was settled.

“You know Maria has been my life for twenty years. I would have married her had there been a way. But it was not to be. Your mother’s family had more influence with the church than I did so my petition for a divorce was never granted. When I’m gone this house is to be hers along with a trust I’ve set aside. You know all this. What you don’t know, Gil, is that you have a brother.”

The barrister had suddenly found an extra burst of energy; his quill flew over the paper as he wrote down this new information.

“Our son has been named after his grandfathers. He’s been entered in my Bible as Gabriel Marcus Anthony. Poor as some may think it, I do want him to share in what little status the name may make in regards to his birthright. I want you, as my eldest son, the son who’ll inherit my title and all of Deerfield, to give me your word that my wishes will be carried out-that Gabe will be accepted as an Anthony. Do I have your word on this, my son?” Lord James Anthony could barely hold back the tears as he asked for his son’s promise.

“Aye, Father, you have my vow,” Gil answered with a quaver in his voice and a renewed sense of compassion and love for the man who sat before him. A deep sigh of relief escaped the old man. Pausing long enough to catch his breath again, Lord Anthony continued, but his voice was weaker. Gil grew concerned, though still refusing to interrupt his father.

“Your brother is a midshipman. He’s spent four years with Captain Suckling on Raisonnable, and the last two years he’s been on a revenue cutter. His papers are all in order. I’ve taught him navigation and seamanship. All he needs is another year or so with a good captain-someone to teach him what it really means to command. I taught ye well enough, I’d like to think. Now I want you to teach him. In a year he’ll be ready to sit for the Lieutenant’s exam.”

Vice Admiral Lord James Anthony died two days later. Gil was overwhelmed with emotion as his father’s friends and shipmates turned out for the funeral. Despite the icy rain mixed with snow, people braved the cold to pay their last respects. When the chapel had filled, people stood in the freezing slush till the service had ended. Even Lord Sandwich, the First lord of the Admiralty, attended.

Gil’s sister, Becky, and her husband Hugh were there with their little girl, Gretchen. Gil thought her the most spoiled little nit he’d ever seen. Maria was there with Gabe. It was the first time Gil had a chance to meet his brother. Looking at Maria during the eulogy, Gil could see the toll his father’s illness and death had taken on her, and he couldn’t help but feel kindly toward her. She had given herself totally to his father, but to some she would always be just Lord Anthony’s mistress. Gil would never forget the look of relief in her eyes when he embraced her at the gravesite and kissed her hand. He wanted her to know she would always be special to him. The First Lord had given him a flag on behalf of the nation in honor of his father. Gil in turn gave it to Maria. She deserved it much more than he did.

After the funeral Gil approached Becky and Hugh. “I see mother didn’t attend.”

“Did you expect her to?” Becky replied.

“No, but I wasn’t sure.”

“Well, it was probably better for all present that she didn’t,” Hugh added as he gazed over at Maria and Gabe.

Dampness seemed to fill the coach. Anthony pulled his boat cloak more tightly about him, yet he was unable to prevent a shudder as a gust of wind penetrated the confines of the coach, sending a chill right through him. The sun had all but set, and with its setting, the air would grow much colder. Anthony knew they still had a long journey before they reached London and was going to be most uncomfortable. Gabe sat across from Anthony. Slumped in his seat, Gabe appeared to be dozing. The two had talked little since the funeral. Anthony detected an air of anger about the boy and was not sure of its origin. Was it due to the fact that his birth had not benefited from a proper wedding? He had his mother’s good looks, her darkness and her eyes, but everything else was his father’s. His laughs were quick, but Gil was betting his temper was quicker. He was quiet, but seemed to have wit. He also seemed very suspicious, but under the circumstances, who wouldn’t be? How many times had he been called the Admiral’s bastard behind his back? How many times had he heard? Could this be why he seemed so guarded and quick to anger?

Anthony had given his word to his dying father to take Gabe under his wing and make him a sea officer. This was a promise he didn’t take lightly. However, he wondered how the relationship would play out, and would he be able to accept Gabe, not only as a midshipman but also as his brother. How would Gabe accept him?

Anthony hoped the summons from the Admiralty would be to receive orders, hopefully command of another ship, something to get him away; he needed the sea. While some men detested life aboard ship he found comfort in its confines. Lord Anthony, Gil’s father, had discussed this love for the sea with him many times.

“Gil, ye were born with salt water in ye veins,” Father had joked. Thinking of his father made Gil think of the messenger who had carried the urgent news of Lord Anthony’s ill health.

The messenger, Dagan, was a mystery. He was Maria’s younger brother and Gabe’s uncle. Anthony had guessed him to be in his mid to late twenties, but he seemed much older for some reason. At Lord Anthony’s funeral, Dagan was always close to Gabe like a protective angel or bodyguard. Yet he was at Maria’s hand whenever she needed him. The girl servants all seemed moonstruck when he was around. A few even looked upon him in a mischievous, tempting manner.

“He puts a spell on ‘em he does,” Anthony’s father, Lord Anthony had said half jokingly before his death.

The male servants were all polite but distant, seeming overly cautious when Dagan was about. In a hurried whisper one of Lord Anthony’s long time personal servants, a seaman who’d sailed with the old Admiral, had warned Anthony: “Be careful like, zur, ‘e see’s the future, ‘e does. ‘E talks to the ravens aye, zur. Seen ‘em at it, I have.” Fearing he’d be overheard, the old servant was so close Anthony could feel the man’s hot breath on his ear as he whispered in a barely audible voice. “‘E’s a soothsayer, zur, maybe ‘e’s even a sorcerer.”