Chapter 6
The Sea (continued)
“Gentlemen,” Trajan finally said, “let me propose this: Say that Inigo and I meet them and report that we are hunting the Dread Pirate Roberts. We wouldn’t be speaking a falsehood. It might even allow us to gain some intelligence as to his whereabouts.”
They stared at Trajan with blank expressions until Westley spoke.
“It does seem like a viable option,” Westley considered, “however…”
“I want to fight them,” Inigo said.
“Of course none of us doubt your honor,” Trajan added quickly, “or your ability. It just seems like the simplest solution to avoid conflict all around. Those men have families.”
Westley smiled. “There is a depth to you that I find fascinating. Are all young men of Guilder so compassionate?”
Trajan shrugged. “I know not.”
The ship was even closer now, and Inigo was impatient.
“I want to fight them. And the boy needs a practice round. Come on, Westley, don’t let him persuade you to do this, this…hiding thing.”
Westley turned to Quidest, who had been listening to the debate in silence while strapping on a scimitar after loading bolts into the shafts of several crossbows.
“What say you, madam?”
“Either way.”
Westley took a deep breath. “Alright. We shall try it Trajan’s way. I think I’ll take a nap below decks. If things should deteriorate into a general engagement, please don’t hesitate to wake me. Cheers.”
“Outrageous,” Inigo muttered as Quidest calmly gathered the weapons into a basket and removed the curved sword from her belt. “We’re not going to fight them?”
“No, my dear,” she patted his cheek, “but I shall make a nice bouillabaisse for our supper. You’d like that now, wouldn’t you?”
“Well, yes, but…but…” Inigo sputtered as he took a heavy seat on a crate. “It seems such a waste to pass up.”
“Trajan, dear. How about you do the talking. My lord doesn’t have the panache for the diplomatic side of things.”
“With respect,” Trajan bowed to Inigo, who waved his gesture off with a tired hand.
“Yes, yes, use your words when you should be using your sword.” Inigo rose to leave. “I suppose you want me to help slice the onions, or maybe scour the anchor, or polish boots. Bah!” he said, pacing off to the ship’s bow.
Quidest locked her arm within Trajan’s and patted his hand. “Don’t worry. He’ll perk up soon. After all, we’re bound to encounter plenty of other pirates along the way.”
“We are?”
“Of course. It is very dangerous traveling by sea.” They were now close enough to make out the rows of cannon along both sides of the Florinese galleon. “My, what a lovely warship,” she said. “I’ll ring you when the soup is ready,” and left below deck.
He stood on the stern alone, except for a couple of deckhands who went about their work, heedless of anything that had transpired.
Trajan stood erect as several Florinese soldiers boarded Westley’s ship. They spread out across the deck and inspected the skeleton crew who had gathered as ordered by a Florinese officer a moment earlier.
After the soldiers had secured the deck, the Florinese commander boarded. He looked past Trajan several times until finally settling on him, and spoke as if addressing a servant.
“Is this everyone?”
“Everyone except for the cook, and the ship’s master, who is feeling rather ill today.” Trajan motioned toward Inigo straddling the yardarm high above their heads.
“Why does he not present himself?”
“He seems a bit out of sorts today. I speak for him.”
“I speak for myself,” Inigo shouted down and held out his blade. “You want to speak with me? Ha!”
Trajan looked at the officer and slightly shook his head.
The officer took Trajan’s meaning and rolled his eyes, said in a loud but firm voice, “That will not be necessary.”
Trajan breathed easier.
“Search the ship,” he said, and waved his men over, who scattered to examine the vessel. “State your name and your business.”
“Trajan of the Greenglen, Guilder, sir,” Trajan bowed. “I seek the Dread Pirate Roberts.” He motioned to Inigo. “This man is my guide.”
The officer chuckled. “Tell me, son of Guilder…”
“Son of Mastan, sir,” Trajan said with authority.
The officer sized up the younger man. “Yes, of course. Tell me, Guilderian,” he emphasized with pompous disdain, “why would you seek an infamous pirate, and how on earth do you expect this…” here he drew out the word, ”pathetic…fellow to find him for you? King Humperdink’s navy has been hunting Roberts since my father’s day. The reward on Roberts’ head is greater than your king even possesses.” He laughed.
“Sir, this man once sailed with Roberts and knows a thing or two about his methods. I’ve paid a great sum to find the pirate. Roberts killed my father and I would as soon see him hanged in Florin if not skewered on the end of my sword. You have my compliments, sir.” Trajan bowed again.
From above, Inigo scoffed.
The officer shook his head and chuckled. “You waste your money, child.”
Just then several soldiers came rushing out of the galley with Quidest fast behind them, screaming in a fake French accent, “These dirty scoundrels dare to taint my kitchen with their stench!!” She bashed one on the head with a ladle and smacked another on the backside with a cast iron skillet. Most of the soldiers laughed and the officer silenced them with his hand.
“My cook, sir,” Trajan apologized.
“I’ll cook every last one of these dirty Florinese,” Quidest shouted. “Get off my ship!”
“Sir, there is no one else on board,” a soldier reported.
“Guilderian, you may continue with this fool’s errand you’ve undertaken. Should you be so fortunate as to stumble upon Roberts, I suspect he will make short work of you and your colorful cast of characters, and that would probably be for the best.” He turned on his heel and led his men back to their ship.
“Thank you for accommodating my whim, sir.” Trajan said as the Florinese galleon sailed away in the distance.
“It better be good soup,” Inigo fumed under his breath.
Trajan took his leave to survey the scene below decks. The galley was a mess of partially emptied barrels and upturned crates that the soldiers had disturbed during their search. Trajan stepped over a pile of onions and was startled by a voice from above.
“That does smell delicious, doesn’t it?”
Trajan investigated the rafters and saw Westley peeking out from a hammock.
“You were there the whole time?” Trajan asked.
“Take note, lad, if you are ever wont to hide, and I certainly don’t recommend making a habit of it, hide somewhere high above the ground. You’d be amazed how people always fail to look up.”
Come back on Monday to meet Archard, another Dread Pirate Roberts.
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