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Episode
I The Corsair
Melissa
awoke. She must have fallen
asleep. Cold from lying unclosed
on the bed, she pulled the covers around her and huddled on the bed.
Then she shook herself out of
her lethargy. It would not do
to wait around weeping, even if her heart was
broken. More of the duke’s
soldiers were likely to show up, and it would not do to be here when they
did. She realized that she had
been lucky, although the pain she was feeling between her legs made her feel
far from fortunate. But it could
have been worse, much worse. If
her captors had not been careless, she would still be on the tabletop, being
treated like the lowest prostitute.
She pulled the bedclothes about her went to
her father’s room. She needed
a disguise. Woman’s clothing
would not do. She searched through
her father’s wardrobe. For
the most part it was a waste of time; her father’s clothing was much
too large for her, but she did find two items that were worth
having. One was a locket containing
a portrait of her father. He
had given it to her mother shortly before she had
died. She hung it around her
neck. The other item was a red
sash her father had once worn to a state ball given by the
duke. It was not a suitable item
of clothing for everyday use, but Melissa took it
anyway. In a separate wardrobe
she found a silk blouse that had once been worn by her
mother. She put it on, and then
still wearing her bedclothes she went downstairs.
Walking was not
easy. Her loins burned and numerous
bruises acquired during her struggles now manifested themselves, but she
forced herself to keep moving. She
had to escape before any more of the duke’s men showed
up. She desperately wanted a
bath, but without any servants there was no hot water available and she did
not want to take the time to heat it
herself.
Hanging it its scabbard on the wall of the
front room was her father’s sword.
It was made of the finest steel.
All of her father’s skill had gone into its
manufacture. There was not a
finer blade in the entire kingdom.
She took it down and checked its
balance. It was a little heavy
for her, but the perfect balance of the blade more than compensated for the
extra weight. She placed the
strap over her shoulder and moved toward the
stables.
She found what she was looking for at the
top of the loft. There was a
small room there used by the stable boy.
He had probably fled when the soldiers came and the room was
deserted. In a crude wardrobe
she found the stable boy’s clothes.
From the looks of them they were the best clothes he had, probably
worn when attending the temple on the Day of
Worship. That did not mean that
they were particularly high quality, but they were clean and serviceable,
and what was more important, they would fit
her. Tossing aside her bedclothes,
she pulled on a dark pair of pants, a tan vest, and a slouch
hat. Before putting on the hat
she tucked her hair up so that it would be hidden when she was wearing the
hat. The last item of clothing
was a dark blue jacket that came down to her
knees. If she turned up the collar
it would hide most of her face.
Taking a single gold coin from her leather purse, she placed it on
a small table next to the bed. When
the stable boy returned, he would find his clothes gone, but he would be
able to purchase a much better outfit with the amount she had
left.
Now she needed a
horse. There were several quality
animals still in the barn. She
saddled one up and giving the horse a flick of the reins she headed down
the road away from Slandor. A
few miles up the road was a small seaside
village. There she hoped to find
a ship that would take her to a safe
haven. If all went well, no one
would be able to trace her until she was well away from
Dakmora.
The tavern was as dark and dingy a place as
she had ever been in, lit only by a few flickering
lanterns. Pulling her hat a little
farther over her eyes, she moved up to the
bar. The barman eyed her suspiciously
from beneath beetling brows. He
spat into the sawdust at his feet as she approached and wiped the top of
the bar with a filthy rag. His
eyes caught the hilt of the sword over Melissa’s
shoulder. “You know how
to use that, boy?” he growled.
Melissa ignored the question, countering with
one of her own. “I’m
looking for passage to the Black Isles,” she said, trying to keep her
voice as deep as possible. She
knew nothing about the Black Isles, but she had heard that they were several
weeks’ sailing from Dakmora and she wanted to get as far away as
possible.
The barkeep spat
again. “I might know of
a ship that’ll get you there.
Got the gold to pay?”
“How much?” asked
Melissa. She watched nervously
as two rough-looking men got up from a table on the other side of the bar
and moved toward her.
“Twenty gold
will get you there.”
Melissa tried not to show her surprise and
disappointment. Twenty gold pieces
would cut considerably into the small legacy her father had left
her. “I can’t
afford that,” she said.
“The bartender smiled
greasily. “How much can
you afford?”
Melissa licked her lips
nervously. One of the two men
had taken up position near the door, blocking her
escape. The other leaned on the
bar a few feet away. Both men
pretended not to be looking at her, but their interest was
obvious.
“Ten,” she
said. “I can afford
ten. It’s all I
have.”
“Not enough,” said the
barkeep. “The Black Isles
aren’t on the main shipping routes.
You got to pay extra to get there.”
Melissa realized that she had made a
mistake. She should have thought
more carefully about where she wanted to go rather than selecting the first
place that came to mind. She
would have to choose some other place, but that would draw attention to
her. If the duke’s men came
to this inn looking for her she would surely be
remembered.
“Where can I go for ten pieces of
gold?” she asked.
“Thought you wanted the Black Isles,”
the barkeep said leaning toward her.
“Now you’re not
particular?” Melissa recoiled
at the smell of his fetid breath.
“Maybe the boy just wants a nice ocean
voyage," said the man who had edged up to the
bar. He moved a little closer
to her as he spoke. Behind her,
Melissa heard the creak of a floorboard as the other man took a step in her
direction.
Trying to appear nonchalant, she shifted her
position a little at the bar in order to keep the man near the door in her
peripheral vision. She readied
herself to draw her sword, but was not sure that she could get it out in
time.
“Ten gold is a lot of money for a boy
to be carrying,” said the man by the
bar. How’d you come by
it?”
Her danger now apparent, Melissa sized up
her opponents. The man at the
bar was about the same height as she was, but solidly
built. His face sported a heavy
growth of dark hair. He was armed
with a short curved blade that would be useful in close
combat. The man near the door
was taller, but even more menacing.
A ragged scar ran down his left check, disappearing into a scruffy
growth of blond beard. He was
armed with a brace of knives in his belt and another in his
boot.
The man at the bar noted her nervous glance
toward him and his companion.
Almost casually, he placed both hands on the
bar. “Seems to me if you
got that much gold it would be friendly of you to buy me and
Melissa was out of her depth and knew
it. She had never mixed with
the type of people that
“Leave the boy alone,
“Ahh, Slash,” said
The man called Slash stepped from the
shadows. He was tall, dark-haired,
handsome, and definitely menacing.
He was armed with a blade the equal of hers, and moved with the grace
of a man who might know how to use it.
“You were just going to rob him you
mean.”
“Get back to the
ship. We’ll be sailing
soon.” He stepped up to
the bar as
Melissa studied the man across from
her. His short, dark beard was
trimmed to perfection. His eyes
were wide-spaced and an intense deep
blue. His sensuous mouth held
a hint of cruelty that quickly disappeared when he smiled, as he was doing
now. She sensed, however, that
he was far more dangerous than the two men who had threatened
her. And the way they had responded
to his orders showed that her assessment of him was shared by
others. “You have a ship?”
she asked.
“I’m Slash Vandar, captain of the
Reaver,
shipping to the Black Isles and points
beyond. Always looking for a
paying passenger.
For ten gold I’ll take you
there. Payment in
advance.”
Melissa was not sure that she could trust
the smooth-talking Vandar, but felt she did not have much
choice. “I’ll give
you five gold now and five when I’m onboard ship,” she
answered. Vandar
nodded. “I’ll have
to get the money,” she added, unwilling to take out her purse in front
of the man. “When do you
sail?”
“First light
tomorrow. You can bunk on the
ship if you like.”
“No,” she
replied. “I have a little
business to attend to.”
Vandar
nodded. “Get the
gold. I’ll
wait.”
Melissa went outside and strode toward the
stables where she had left her horse.
It would provide a little privacy when she took out her
purse. There was also the matter
of her horse. She might as well
sell it and the tack as leave it here.
She had noticed a livery stable a few buildings down when she rode
in. Tossing the stable boy a
couple of small coins, she saddled her horse and led it down the
street.
As it was still early evening, the stable
master was still there. She managed
to convince him to give her three gold for the horse
and one for the tack. It was
far less than it was worth, but she was not in a good bargaining position,
and she feared that Vandar might leave the tavern if she took too
long.
Hurrying back, she found Vandar sitting nursing
a mug of ale. “You must
have stashed your gold in the next town,” he said, commenting on the
length of time it had taken her to
return. “I was beginning
to think you’d changed your mind about the
voyage.”
“No,” replied Melissa as gruffly
as she could. “Just had
to attend to some minor business.”
She took five gold sovereigns from her pocket and slapped them on
the table. “Good enough
for you? You’ll have the
rest when I’m aboard ship.”
Vandar
nodded. Draining his ale, he
stood up. “I’m off
to bed. The
Reaver
is anchored just off the point.
You’ll need to row out to
her. Be there at dawn or I sail
without you.”
Melissa nodded and watched him
leave. Crossing over to the bar
she asked: “How much for a
room?”
“One silver if you want a room to
yourself. Five coppers to
share. One extra copper for clean
sheets and one more copper to make sure you rise before
dawn.”
Melissa nodded
again. “I’ll take the
room and the sheets. Here’s
a silver and two
coppers. There’s two more
if you can have breakfast ready for me before
dawn.”
The barkeep swiped up the money with a filthy
paw. “You’ll be up
and breakfast will be ready.
Room’s the one at the end of the hall, top of the
stairs.”
“One more thing,” Melissa
added. “Have some water
brought up. I want a
bath.”
“That will cost you another
copper. Two if you want hot
water.”
Melissa
nodded. She slapped down three
coppers on the bar. She might
be at sea for awhile. She might
as well splurge.
Surprisingly, the room was cleaner than she
had thought it would be. It even
appeared to have been swept out sometime
recently. A knock at the door
signaled the arrival of a young girl with clean
sheets. Melissa said nothing
as the girl handed them over. The
less she talked the less chance there was of giving herself
away.
She waited for the hot water, wondering what
the
Reaver
would be like. She had not thought
to ask for a cabin to herself.
Well, she would have to sort that out tomorrow.
The girl knocked
again. Melissa opened the door
and let her in. She was accompanied
by a servant and between them they carried several buckets of
water. The watched listlessly
as they filled the small wooden tub.
She suddenly felt exhausted, and wanted nothing more than to climb
into the bed and sleep. But she
had to wash the filth of the rape from her
body. She felt dirty and
degraded. Somehow she knew that
the bath would not eliminate that feeling, but she would at least be free
of the evidence of her violation.
It suddenly occurred to her that she might be
pregnant. That thought almost
made her ill, but there was nothing she could do about
it. Finally the serving girl
and the male servant finished with the water and left the
room. She latched the door behind
them and prepared for her bath.
She stripped off her
clothing. In the dim light of
a candle stub that was burning in a bracket on the wall she looked herself
over. She was covered in bruises
and dried blood. She was surprised
that the men in the tavern had not been able to smell it on
her. Moving to the tub she cautiously
lowered herself into the hot water.
Immediately the water coloured as the dried blood on her thighs and
loins was washed away.
She picked up a cake of cheap soap that the
serving girl had brought with the water.
Slowly she scrubbed herself,
working up a lather, and cleaned every part of her
body. She would have preferred
better quality soap, but it was better than
nothing. She scrubbed until she
felt as if her skin would come off.
She knew she was clean, but somehow she still felt dirty as she climbed
out of the tub.
She had not thought to bring a nightgown and
wondered whether or not she should sleep in the
nude. Deciding that it was best
if she was dressed and ready to leave, she put her clothes back on and lay
down on the bed. For awhile,
she lay there thinking about how her life had
changed. Then without knowing
it, she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.
She was awakened by a tapping at the
door. Instantly she was alert
until she remembered that she had asked to be
wakened. She opened the door
and the young girl was there with a bowl of porridge and a jug of
milk. “Paw said you
was to have this,” the girl said, “and
you was to pay two coppers.”
Melissa nodded and took the
bowl. Handing the girl the money
she waited until she had left and then picked up the
spoon. The porridge was hot and
quite good. She found that she
had developed quite an appetite, but she ate
quickly. She did not want to
miss the ship.
Finishing her breakfast she strapped on her
sword and headed downstairs. It
appeared she was the only one up, but she could hear the town stirring around
her when she hit the street. She
hurried down toward the waterfront.
Already the sky was lightening as dawn
approached. She found a boatman
at the end of the wharf that was willing to row her out to the
Reaver for
copper. A few minutes later the
ship loomed out of the early morning
fog. She saw that a net
had been lowered in order to allow her to
board.
Pulling alongside, she paid off the boatman
and climbed awkwardly up the net.
Reaching the main deck, she looked about
her. The
Reaver
was not what she had expected. The
ship was definitely not built for carrying
cargo. Its lines were far too
sleek.
Captain wants to see you,” said
A tug on her sword startled
her. She made a grab for the
blade as it was yanked clear of the
scabbard. Holding her sword,
with a huge grin on his face, was
“What is the meaning of this?” protested
Melissa. “I paid you well
for this voyage.”
“Not nearly enough,
son. It will require more than
ten gold pieces for me to take you to the Black
Isles. Since you lack funds I
am willing to let you work your passage.”
“What do you
mean?”
asked Melissa, a thrill of fear running through
her.
“I am a bit short of crew this voyage,
having carelessly lost my cabin boy last time
out. But I think you will fill
in nicely.”
“But…” Melissa
started.
“There are not
buts. You are on
ship. At sea my word is
law. Do as I order or I’ll
pickle you in brine.”
Melissa shut her
mouth. If she wasn’t careful
they would discover that she was not a
boy. She had already drawn enough
attention to herself. She hoped
that they would not decide to search her for more money.
“My cabin is right below here,”
said Vandar. “There is a
small bunk you can use. I see
that for some reason you have no luggage so you won’t need to stow your
gear. You can start you duties
by cleaning my cabin and airing out my
bedding. I’ll assign other
duties as needed.”
Melissa
nodded. At least in the cabin
she would be out of sight. If
only she could get her sword back then she would show that smirking idiot,
The cabin was about as untidy as possible
without being outright filthy.
Apparently no one had bothered to clean it for quite some
time. Melissa
sighed. She might as well get
to work.
It took her most of the day to clean the
cabin. It was work she was not
used to and her body protested.
Every movement reminded her that she had been raped, but she had little
choice. A few minutes after she
had been assigned the task, the
Reaver got under
way. The movement of the ship
over the waves was unsettling and she stumbled about the
cabin. She was beginning to feel
a bit queasy.
Seasick. That would be
all she needed. Fortunately,
after a few minutes her stomach settled
down. Later, Vandar looked in
on her to see how work was proceeding.
He nodded his approval as she saw the state of chaos in the cabin
returned to a basic level of order.
A bell rang several times, and suddenly Vandar
was there again. “Time for
the
As it turned out, she didn’t have to
find it on her own.
The cook ladled out a bowl of stew and handed
her a thick slice of bread.
“Come back for something for yourself
once the Cap’n’s fed,” said the cook, a rather portly individual
wearing a badly stained apron.
Melissa hurried back to the cabin, trying
hard not to spill the soup on the heaving
deck. She noted that the ship
was already out of sight of land and wondered how long it would take to get
to the Black Isles.
Vandar received the stew without comment,
and she headed back to the galley to get herself some
food. Fortunately, the hint of
seasickness she had earlier seemed to have worn
off. She was glad of
that. It would have been almost
impossible to hide her identity if she had been constantly
vomiting.
The rest of the day passed without
incident. And the day after
that. There seemed to be no end
of chores to do on board the ship, but by good luck, most of the tasks she
was assigned were away from the rest of the crew, reducing any chance of
discovery. Two things puzzled
her. The ship’s hold seemed
to be almost empty, containing nothing more than food and other supplies
for the crew. This, along with
the obviously bloated crew size seemed
strange. Why did it take almost
a hundred men to operate so small a ship?
But knowing nothing of the sea and fearful of drawing attention to
herself, she made no inquiries.
She slept on the small bunk in Vandar’s
cabin. Most of the time the man
simply ignored her and so as the days passed she became more confident of
her disguise. It helped a good
deal that she was not able to wash.
Water was in short supply on the ship and no one
bathed. By smearing her face
with a little dirt she was able to make herself look more
boyish. Two weeks out, however,
things changed.
“Sail ho!” cried the
lookout. Immediately the
Reaver
became a hive of activity. At
the time the sail was spotted, Melissa was in the cabin, scrubbing the
deck. She heard the shout, but
ignored it, keeping right on with her
cleaning. But fifteen minutes
after the call, Vandar strode in through the door holding her
sword.
He
handed her the weapon hilt
first. “Let’s go
boy. We’ve got work to
do. One of the Duke of
Dakmora’s ships is on the horizon.
We’ll see how well you handle that fancy
blade.”
Melissa wondered how she could have been so
stupid. It was all so obvious
now. The small size of the ship;
the large number of crew members; the lack of cargo in the
hold. “You’re
pirates!” she exclaimed.
“Not
pirates.
Corsairs.”
“What is the
difference?”
“None,” smiled
Vandar. “I just like the
sound of the word better. Now
look to. We’ll be overhauling
that fat merchant ship in less than an hour.”
“But I’m not a pirate… I mean
corsair,” Melissa protested.
“You are
now. And I expect you to fight
alongside my men. If you refuse
I’ll consider you one of the
enemy.”
Melissa felt
trapped. How could she explain
that she had never engaged in ant sort of military action in her life except
the brief and brutal clash with the duke’s soldiers who had raped
her? She was also quite adverse
to the idea of attacking an innocent merchant
ship. It was not the way she
had been brought up. But if she
refused she would almost certainly be
discovered. She did not relish
the thought of being the only woman among almost a hundred
cutthroats.
There was also the fact that the ship being
pursued belonged to the man who had killed her
father. The crew would be innocent
seamen to be sure, but so had her father been innocent and so had she before
the duke’s soldiers had brutally ravaged
her. She hefted her father’s
blade. Perhaps this was the best
way to avenge
herself.
She would be hitting the duke where it would hurt him most, in his
treasury. Without another word,
she took up position with the rest of the
Reaver’s
crew and made ready to board the fleeing merchantman.
The
Reaver
closed in on the wallowing merchantman like a hawk on a grass-stuffed
rabbit. She was a big ship, and
towered over the corsair. As
the distance between the two ships closed, Melissa could see crossbowmen
lining the stern and forecastles on the
merchantman. Until the corsairs
closed and boarded they would be at a
disadvantage. The ship’s
cargo must have been of great value in order to have such a heavy
guard.
Thunk!
A
quarrel thudded into the rail only inches from Melissa’s
arm. Another whizzed by her
head. With a scream one of the
crewmen staggered back, a feathered shaft jutting from his
chest. And then the grappling
hooks sailed through the air, catching in the rigging of the
merchantman. The tension mounted
as the two ships were drawn together.
With dry mouth and palpitating heart, Melissa readied herself to jump
across the gap.
With a grinding crash the two ships came
together. Dozens of cutthroats
jumped from the decks of the
Reaver to the
merchantman. The clash of arms
and the screams and yells of fighting and wounded men filled the
air. Melissa did not remember
jumping, but suddenly she found herself on the deck of the other ship in
the thick of an indescribable melee.
All around her men were engaged in a life and death
struggle.
Although the crew of the merchantman was
outnumbered it fought with desperation, and for the first part of the fight
controlled the elevated areas of the bow and
stern. The battle would not be
won and the ship captured until these wooden towers were
taken. Melissa bobbed and wove
her way through the confusion of the battle on the main deck, heading for
the companionway leading to the raised
stern. As she set foot on the
ladder, a crossbowman leaned over the rail and pointed his weapon directly
at her face. She slashed wildly
at his head just as he pulled the trigger and somehow the heavy bolt shot
over her head.
With a speed born of desperation, she darted
up the ladder. Before the crossbowman
could recover she was on him and ran him through without
thinking. Another bowman, having
just released a quarrel, turned to face
her. Dropping his unloaded bow
he drew his sword and advanced on her.
Melissa’s training took over.
She blocked his blow and counterattacked before he could
recover. Her blade caught him
in the shoulder. With a scream
of pain he staggered back, dropping his
sword. Then Vandar was beside
her, guarding her back. Ferociously
Vandar lay into the remaining defenders, Melissa at his
side. Together, they swept the
reminder of the defenders before them, taking out two more men before the
rest threw down their swords and
surrendered. Melissa found herself
facing the captain, who fell to his knees and offered up his
sword.
With the fall of the command deck, the fight
seemed to go out of the rest of the merchantman’s
crew. The ship had been
taken. Melissa felt a strange
exhilaration. It was a feeling
that was most unexpected. She
should have been horrified at the killing of men who were merely defending
their master’s property, but instead she felt
elated. Breathing hard, she found
herself grinning like an idiot.
Suddenly remembering that such behavior might draw attention to herself,
she restrained her emotions. But
as she left the command deck, she could feel Vandar’s eyes following
her.
That night the crew
celebrated. The crew of the
merchantman had been forced to transfer the most valuable part of their cargo
to the
Reaver. Then
to Melissa’s relief, they had been allowed to sail away, taking their
wounded with them. She had always
thought that captured crews were put to the sword, but apparently Vandar
did not believe in such pirate rituals.
As a mater of fact, Vandar’s method of
celebrating was most unusual.
Instead of joining his crew in getting roaring drunk, he retired to
his cabin. During the transfer
of the valuables from the merchantman to the corsair, he had demanded that
five barrels of water be moved onto the main
deck. While the rest of the crew
drank itself into insensibility he had the water heated in the galley and
brought bucket by bucket to his cabin.
Melissa as his cabin boy was required to carry the heavy buckets of
steaming water. This left her
both chagrined and relieved. She
believed that she had fought well enough during the capture of the merchantman
to earn some sort of respite from her duties, but at the same time she was
relieved that she had an excuse to avoid the rest of the
crew. The drunken carousing might
have made it difficult to hide her identity, and as the only woman on board,
she was certain that she would have become the centre of the unwelcome attentions
of the crew.
And so, in spite of the fact that she felt
quite tired, she carried bucket after bucket of hot water to the captain’s
cabin. Vandar had his own seldom-used
copper bathtub, which she was required to fill to
capacity. While she filled the
tub, Vandar sat at a heavy oak table taking inventory on the loot he and
his men had taken from the merchantman.
Only when the tub was full did he rise from his chair and begin to
strip off his clothes.
Melissa felt a deep flush suffuse her cheeks
as Vandar undressed. She was
glad of the dim light of the cabin.
She gasped as she caught a glimpse of his private
parts. Quickly she turned away
as he removed his pants and stepped into the hot water.
“I’ll get some more
water,” she mumbled as she moved to the door.”
“No, stay,” said
Vandar. “I can use you
here. I need someone to scrub
my back.”
Still blushing, but unable to think of any
way out of her predicament Melissa approached the
tub. Vandar splashed around in
the soapy water, and pulled out a sponge.
Handing it to her he leaned
forward. Dutifully, she knelt
and began to sweep the sponge over his powerfully muscled
back.
“You did well today, boy,” said
Vandar, stretching so that Melissa could reach his lower
back. “You surprised
me. Your skill with the blade
is excellent and you keep your head well in
battle. A few more such encounters
and you will be as seasoned a fighter as any on
board.”
Melissa did not know what to
say. She was pleased that Vandar
had noticed her, but her close proximity to a naked man, and a mighty handsome
one at that, left her tongue-tied.
Vandar did not seem to notice.
He leaned forward.
“Ah, that feels good.
It’s wonderful to have a bath after being at sea for a few weeks
don’t you think? Would you
like to use the water after me?”
“That would be nice,” replied Melissa,
fearful that refusing would make Vandar
suspicious. Somehow she had to
find a way out of this. Perhaps
she could tell him that she wanted to share a drink with the crew first,
and he would forget about it by the time she
returned.
“A little lower, boy,” Vandar commanded
seizing her wrist and guiding her hand toward his
backside. Melissa felt a strange
sensation in her loins as she passed the sponge over his muscular buttocks
and then swept it up over his back to his powerful
shoulders. Unbidden, the memory
of what she had seen between his legs popped into her
mind. Suddenly there was
a dampness between her legs that should not have
been there. She had to fight
to control her breathing. Suddenly
Vandar was looking directly into her
eyes. “I keep calling you
‘boy,’ but you must have a name.”
“It’s Mel… Mel,” she
replied.
“Mel?”
You got a last name?’
“I… I’d rather not say,”
said Melissa, flustered that she had almost given herself
away.
“You know, Mel,” said Vandar grasping
both her wrists, “I’ve never seen you without that
hat. You don’t need it in
the cabin. Why don’t you
take it off?”
Melissa felt a thrill of
fear. Was Vandar on to
her? “I’ve always worn
a hat,” she lied. “I
don’t feel right with it off.”
She tried to pull free of his hands.
Vandar tightened his
grip. “I’ve just one
more question. When are you going
to stop pretending to be a boy?”
Melissa felt a chill of fear run through
her. He
knew! But she tried to brazen
it out. “What do you
mean? I’m not yet old enough
to be a man.”
Vandar
laughed. “You don’t
give up easily do you?” he said, pulling her closer to the edge of the
tub. “I mean, Mel, or whatever
your name really is, that if you are a male, then I am a
eunuch. And if I stand up I can
prove that isn’t so.”
Melissa knew she was
caught. “How long have you
known?” she asked,
dropping the forced gruffness
from her voice,
Vandar laughed
again. “Ever since I first
saw you in the tavern. If you
are going to pretend to be a man you have to learn to walk like
one.”
“What about the crew?’ Melissa asked,
her face turning crimson with
embarrassment.
“They’ve known
too. Every one of
them. It was our little
joke. But you paid us back a
little. That was a real surprise
when you helped take the merchantman.
We all expected you to panic, but you fought as well as any
man.” Vandar half rose from
the water, still holding Melissa’s wrists so that she could not
escape. “And now, I’d
like to see you with that hat off.”
Before she could move, Vandar swept one hand
upward, knocking the hat from her head.
Melissa’s flame red hair spilled over her shoulders and down
her back and chest. Vandar gave
a low whistle. “You are
one beautiful woman. Even under
all that dirt you’re dazzling.”
Melissa’s blush deepened if that was
possible, and she pulled her hands free of Vandar’s
grasp. That did not seem to bother
the corsair captain in the slightest.
With a fluid movement he stood up, naked and dripping
water. “Time to give you
a bath girl.”
“No,” Melissa
protested. “Please
don’t!” The panic in
her voice caused Vandar to pause.
Picking up a towel, he wrapped it around his
waist.
“Someone did something to you
didn’t they?” he said.
Melissa bowed her head, the memories of the
rape pouring back into her mind.
Biting her lip she tried to hold back the
tears. The last thing she wanted
to do was appear weak in front of this man, but she couldn’t help
herself. Suddenly a sob worked
its way from deep within her and sinking to her knees she wept at the memory
of what had been done to her. She
was so caught up in grief that she hardly noticed when Vandar knelt before
her and put his arms around her.
Leaning into him she cried hysterically, her body shaking with
grief.
Vandar let her cry herself out, simply holding
her close and stroking her hair.
Gradually Melissa’s sobs diminished until her body no longer
shook. It was then that she suddenly
realized that she was being held close by a man who was three-quarters
naked. Once again she felt the
strange sensation in her loins. She
raised her tear-stained face.
“I think I’d like to have that bath now,” she
said.
“The water will be cold,” Vandar
answered. “I’ll get
the cook to heat some more.”
He pulled on his pants and then dropped the
towel. Naked to the waist, he
picked up the water buckets and left the
cabin. Melissa took advantage
of his absence to strip off her clothing and get into the
tub. She found to her dismay
that she displaced much less water than did the corsair
captain. She considered getting
out of the tub and waiting, but knew that Vandar would be back at any
time. She did not want him to
find her half dressed. Also,
although the water was not hot, it was the first time water had touched her
skin in weeks, and it felt delightful.
Leaning back, she let that water rise up and
cover her
breasts. At that moment, the
cabin door opened and Vandar returned.
He was carrying two buckets of steaming
water. “I’ve
got the cook heating two more buckets, but this should warm up the
water.”
Melissa wondered at the role
reversal. An hour ago she had
been hauling water for the captain.
Now he was carrying water for her.
“Scrunch back,” he ordered, I don’t want to scald
you.”
Covering her breasts with her arms, Melissa
moved as far back in the tub as she could as he poured the hot water near
the edge. She gave a little moan
of contentment as the heat soaked into her
body. The bath was an almost
erotic experience.
Vandar poured in the second bucket and then
stirred the water with his hand, mixing it with the rest of the
bathwater. Then he scooped part
of the water back out and moved behind
her. “Close your eyes,”
he warned raising the bucket above her
head. Melissa did as she was
told and a cascade of warm water drenched her
hair. Then he moved over to his
trunk and opened it. He took
put a small green bottle. “I
don’t usually use this myself, but some of my lady friends enjoy
it.” Pouring some thick
liquid into his hands, he massaged it into her
scalp. Melissa gave a little
sigh.
Shampoo. She had never
expected to find that on board ship.
Like a trained masseur, Vandar worked the
shampoo into her scalp. Melissa
almost purred as he gently massaged her scalp, and she had to stop herself
from arching her back. Never
in her life had she expected to be sitting in a warm bath with a semi-nude
man caressing her hair.
Vandar thoroughly soaped her hair, and then
poured more water over it to rinse it
clean. A knock sounded at the
cabin door and he opened it. She
heard Vandar give a muffled thanks to someone outside the door and heard
a muted “Aye-aye, Captain,” and then he came back in with two more
buckets of water.
“This is the last of it,” he said,
“so enjoy it. You won’t
get another bath until we reach the Black
Isles.” He added another
bucket of water and set the last one aside for
rinsing. Then he picked up the
sponge and began to scrub her back.
Melissa suppressed a groan of
contentment. She didn’t
want Vandar to think she was enjoying this as much as she was, but it was
hard not to react to the sensual touch of the
sponge.
Slowly the pirate captain worked the sponge
over her neck and shoulders, and then down her
back. Modestly, Melissa crossed
her arms in front of her fearing that Vandar might try to move the sponge
into even more sensitive regions of her
body. However, the corsair did
not try to press the issue, instead he handed her the
sponge. “I’ll let you
finish up,” he said, “I’ll try to do something about that
gorgeous mane.”
Melissa was both relieved and disappointed
when Vandar stopped the sponge bath.
She almost wished he had tried to wash the more private parts of her
body, but at the same time, her sense of modesty made her glad he had
stopped. Holding the sponge in
front of her, she sank a little deeper into the hot
water. Meanwhile, Vandar rummaged
in the trunk. He returned carrying
an ivory comb.
Her wet and tangled hair was draped over the
edge of the tub and Vandar took it in his
hands. Melissa had not been able
to comb it for weeks and knew it was a gnarled
mess. “I can do that,”
she protested.
“I’d love to see you do it, tomorrow
morning.”
Melissa turned deep red at the
implication. But did not
protest. The image of Vandar’s
impressive manhood returned. Why
could she not get it out of her mind?
While she struggled with her emotions Vandar began to comb out her
silken tresses. He was surprisingly
skillful, only occasionally tugging on the roots of her
hair. She let her head fall back
and closed her eyes as her unruly locks were
tamed. Almost too soon, Vandar
was finished. “Now, my
beauty,” he said, “it’s
bedtime.”
Melissa’s heart began to beat so fast
she feared it would burst through her
chest. She was completely at
the mercy of the corsair captain.
She trembled, as memories of her rape only a month before surged back
into her mind.
“Please,” she said, in a voice that sounded like that of
a little girl, “I’m afraid.”
“I know,” Vandar replied, resting
his hand on her trembling shoulder, “I can feel your
fear. Someone hurt you
badly. But I can make you forget
that.”
“No,” she
begged. “Please don’t
do this.”
“Alright,” he relied
quietly. He rose silently, and
picked up a towel. “I will
step outside while you dry yourself.
I was hoping you would wear this, but perhaps I should fetch something
more suitable.” Melissa
saw that he was holding a diaphanous
nightgown. It was so sheer that
if she put it on it she might as well be
nude. But as she watched,
Vandar went to his trunk again and took out a thin
cotton nightgown. He set it down
next to the tub and then went outside.
Melissa felt a strange sense of emptiness
as Vandar closed the door behind him.
Almost immediately, she wished that he would come back into the
cabin. “What’s the
matter with me?” she thought.
“Why am I having these
thoughts?” She stood up,
water dripping from her long supple body and began to towel herself
off. Stepping from the tub she
finished drying herself and picked up the cotton
nightgown. She stared at it for
a full minute, her mind whirling with unfamiliar
emotions. Then she set it down
and picked up the gossamer nightdress.
“What the hell.” she muttered.
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