Inigo admired the massive pirate ship as Westley rowed the lifeboat toward it. “She is marvelous still. Westley look, isn’t she beautiful?”
Westley looked over his shoulder. “Indeed she is, friend.” But noticing Trajan, he added, “But perhaps we might save such observations for after our man here dispatches Roberts.”
“Bah, Trajan is ready. By sunset Roberts will be dead and Trajan here will inherit this beautiful ship to do with what he likes.”
“I will?”
“Of course. You kill a pirate captain, you keep his ship.”
Trajan looked at Westley. “Is this true?”
“Indeed. It’s a sort of code. Of course, the crew might have something to say about it.”
“The crew are petty thieves. They couldn’t captain a dinghy.”
Trajan stared at the pirates lining the deck, dangerous and dirty men who spat tobacco as they surveyed the approaching boat. “I don’t know. They look more than that to my eyes.”
“Pay them no mind,” Westley said. “They won’t interfere. At least, not until you kill Roberts, in any case.”
Trajan fixed his eyes on a pair of pirates standing high on an upper deck, sharpening their swords.
“Let them keep their ship,” he said.
The lifeboat reached the rope ladder. Inigo fastened it to the Revenge and began to climb, followed by Trajan. Inigo reached the top and stepped onto the deck with pirates close around him. He gave them a stern look that made those nearest him back up a foot.
The crew kept their distance but commenced jeering. “Look at this lad! Ha, more of a lassie, I reckon.” The litany of insults that followed caused Trajan to bristle and grip his sword hilt.
“Step back!” Inigo boomed. He unsheathed his sword and flicked the hair of the nearest pirate, drawing a cascade of growls. “Step back, or I will shave your heads one ear at a time.”
Trajan was about to unsheathe his sword, and most of the pirates now brandished blades of their own when a voice boomed across the deck.
“Stop!”
The pirates paused, and Kadir moved through their ranks as they parted.
“Back, I say, back!” Inigo continued to spin around with his sword.
“You needn’t fear, Spaniard. Nobody’s here to fight you, although I for one would relish it. You may sheath your sword, for now. You are guests of the Dread Pirate Roberts—” Kadir raised his voice and spoke directly to the pirates, “and will be treated as such until Roberts says otherwise!”
The angry pirates put away their blades and fell back several feet.
Trajan examined Kadir, confused. This is not Roberts? “And who are you, sir?”
“You must be Roberts’ challenger,” Kadir scoffed.
They were interrupted by Westley, who, having reached the top of the ladder and taken in the situation almost unnoticed by the others, said cheerfully, “Good day,” then bowed to Kadir. He then saluted the pirates. “Gentlemen.”
Kadir stared at Westley in disbelief. “I know your face.”
Westley smiled and lowered his voice. “There are many who do, but I doubt those in our present company are among them.” Westley motioned to the crew with his eyes.
Kadir nodded and leaned aggressively toward Westley, but added in a whisper, “An honor.”
Inigo sheathed his sword. “Where is Archard, and where is Quidest? Bring them here at once and don’t think I won’t tear this vessel apart plank by beautiful plank.”
Kadir laughed. “They are quite well. The lady, anyway. Roberts had to rough up the Frenchman a bit to silence his cheek. Still, he’s no worse for wear. Which is more than I can say for this Guilderian peasant who stands here quaking.”
More laughter from the pirates. Trajan stepped forward. “You never gave me your name, though I addressed you as a gentleman. I can see now that I was indeed a fool to give you such courtesy. Run along now and fetch Roberts if that is your role. I will have this out with him, and not with words.”
Westley leaned into Inigo. “Our man has some pluck. Did you coach him to say that?”
“I teach only swordplay, words are your strength.”
Kadir stepped toward Trajan, putting his thumbs in his belt as he got closer to the young challenger. Face to face, they looked into each other’s eyes.
Kadir’s gave a small smirk and then turned, addressing the crowd while raising his hands in the air. “Gentlemen! He calls us gentlemen!”
More pirate laughter.
“Our mighty captain Roberts has a challenger.” Kadir turned slowly as he spoke. “This…pathetic creature…calls out the Dread Pirate Roberts, to the death. And who says comedy is dead?”
The pirates jeered and some threw pieces of food at Trajan as seasoning to accompany the insults.
“This shall be fun indeed! Let us enjoy watching Roberts make short work of this…gentleman.” Kadir turned to face Trajan again. “Or should I say, this child dressed up in a man’s clothes.”
Trajan waited for the laughter to die down. “Present your master. I will speak no more to you or your kind.” He turned his back on Kadir and walked toward a clearing on the deck suitably large for a duel. Westley and Inigo flanked Trajan and the pirates moved out of the way.
When they were out of earshot, Trajan remarked, “From what Archard described, I thought for sure he was Roberts.”
“I believe you’re correct,” Westley answered. “He was Roberts.”
Inigo helped Trajan strip down to his undershirt, then sat him on a stool while assisted him in putting on a new, tighter pair of gloves. “Where the devil is Archard?” he muttered.
As if on cue a chorus of boos and catcalls erupted from behind them. Trajan tried to look past Inigo and Westley but there were so many pirates crowding around that he could only see those in front.
Archard and Quidest emerged from the captain’s cabin and made their way through the crowd into Trajan’s corner. “My love,” Quidest said as she knelt beside Inigo, then stroked the back of Trajan’s hand. “Strength, Trajan. And be quick. I have seen his blade and he moves like lightning.”
“Who is he?” Trajan asked Archard in hushed tones. “Surely it was Kadir that I spoke with, but Kadir is not Roberts?”
“Well, you know how it goes,” Archard smiled. “There is a new Roberts in residence, and it is he you will need to fight.”
“But was it not Kadir who killed my father?”
“Undoubtedly,” Archard said. “But if you want to get to him, you will first need to go through another. I’m sorry my boy, but that is just the way it must be.”
“What can you tell us about him?” Westley asked while massaging Trajan’s shoulders and arms.
“I’m afraid I know nothing of this man, and Kadir was not exactly hospitable.”
“Clearly.”
“But I will say this. She’s correct. He’s fast, don’t underestimate him.”
Inigo knelt before Trajan, pulled the sword of Domingo Montoya out of its sheath, and held it in the palms of his hands.
“My father made this sword. It was his masterpiece. It has only known defeat once, and even in that it never failed to find its revenge. I give it to you, Trajan, and by your hand may it avenge your father as it did mine.”
The Dread Pirate Roberts could hear the clamor outside his cabin – curses, laughter, taunting. He stared at himself in the mirror. They want blood. They want action. They need to fear you.
He admired the old leather tunic he’d worn through so many battles; its thickness had absorbed so many blows over the years from soldiers, pirates, all variety of foes. Roberts put his hand to his chest and felt the deep gash Kadir’s sword had created in the leather. That leather had been harvested on his own farm, from cattle his family had raised for generations, and he thought about that place now. Calloused fingers worked the side straps as he fidgeted with the leather thongs tied across his ribs.
He reached into his trunk and removed a sword belt, put it on and checked the tightness. It wasn’t the one he wore every day but another, embroidered with his family crest and worn only when dueling; the stitching reminded him of the hands that had made it while sitting in front of the fireplace in winter. He could see the woman’s face in the dim light of his memory.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered to the empty room, remembering Kadir’s ultimatum. “Forgive me. I had no other choice.”
Roberts wondered if that was true. Would death have been better than to accept Kadir’s offer? Would he ever be able to command the respect of men whom he had no respect for? Men he, in fact, despised?
He walked over to a drawer, opened it, and pulled out a thick journal. He flipped through the first several pages and stopped to read some of them before turning it to the newest page. Setting it on the writing desk, he dipped his quill in the ink, then wrote:
Accepted a duel in defense of Roberts.
May God decide my fate.
Roberts left the book open on the desk, took another look in the mirror, and turned to face the door. He opened it and was assaulted by sunlight and the stench of pirates who crowded the entrance.
“Make way, make way,” Kadir instructed.
The pirates backed away enough to let Roberts walk out but filled in behind him as he went forward. At the ship’s ladder, Roberts looked down and could barely make out the unfamiliar figures on deck below him, all but the lady, who stood out in stark contrast. He couldn’t see the challenger at all. Pity the poor soul.
He surveyed the pirates that made up his crew, fifty hired men in all, not counting Kadir or the cook, and no doubt a few stowaways thrown in. They hung from masts, sat on crates, and crowded the deck. Most of the pirates were wild with anticipation, but Roberts noted sporadic groupings who didn’t cheer or laugh, but glared at him. He stopped when he saw the pair from earlier, the men who had challenged him once already on the shore. They stood with their arms crossed, defiance still on their faces. He made eye contact with the tall one and saw danger.
“Later,” he said quietly to himself, and descended the ladder.
He walked toward the clearing and was now close enough to see the back of a man kneeling in front of another, both with their heads bowed.
Roberts turned and Kadir was there before him. He leaned in close.
“They’re restless.”
“I know,” Roberts said just above a whisper. “We must make this fast…” Roberts looked over his shoulder at his adversary’s corner, “…and brutal.”
“He’s just a boy,” Kadir said.
Roberts closed his eyes, several pirates noticed.
“Perhaps he will win,” Roberts said, then opened his eyes and unsheathed his sword. “If so, perhaps you can spare him. I cannot afford to.”
“Get on with it!” a pirate bellowed from above.
“Yeah, get on with it. What is this?” more pirates echoed, cheering and cursing.
Roberts bit his lip, swiped his blade through the air three times, bent his knees and pointed his blade toward the face of the pirate from earlier, off in the distance, who continued to stare.
He was ready.
From behind him, he heard a young man’s voice ring out, “Turn and face me, coward! I am Trajan of Guilder, son of Mastan of the Greenglen! If you are the Dread Pirate Roberts, face me. I will have my revenge! En guard!”
Roberts gulped for air, his heartbeat accelerated, and he began to sweat. Slowly he turned and saw the blade of Domingo Montoya pointed at him, reflecting the sun and causing the gold hilt and encrusted jewels to sparkle. Roberts focused on the blade but slowly his eyes followed along the arm that held it until he was looking directly at Trajan, who was gritting his teeth and had eyes that burned hatred.
Tears began to form in Roberts’ eyes.
Trajan blinked, slightly lowered Inigo’s sword.
“Father!” his voice cracked.
Varying accounts describe what happened next, but the most reliable source on the subject quotes Quidests’ journal:
“That was when the fish hit the pan.”
It was an old-world expression that referred to the moment when circumstances were about to become very painful for someone (presumably the fish). The saying has survived to the modern day and more commonly involves something hitting a fan. This was before fans.
Roberts took slow steps toward Trajan and was unable to restrain a smile as wide as the horizon. For his part, Trajan understood perfectly what had happened: Kadir must have spared him.
As most pirates are not known to possess quick cognitive ability, the majority on the Revenge were left scratching their heads when Trajan called their captain “Father.” Westley, Inigo and Kadir were the first to realize what was about to happen. All three immediately put their hands on their sword hilts as they took their eyes off the beautiful reunion between Trajan and his father, and sized up the crowd surrounding them.
Even before Roberts was close enough to embrace him, Trajan recognized confusion on the pirates’ faces and saw them begin speaking in clusters. Soon most of them had weapons in their hands.
Trajan shook his head. “Um, I mean, Roberts…how are you…today?”
Roberts chuckled through his tears and simply embraced his son. Trajan hugged his father back but could not take his eyes off the pirates.
Quidest later said that one could see the news transform the pirates like a wave washing over the deck. One pirate explained to the one beside him what was happening, and on to the next until eventually a clear majority of the pirates were now angry and not quiet about it.
“I think your crew means to kill us,” Trajan said.
“Fear not, son,” Roberts said. “I’m grateful you’re here.”
“Any chance they’ll let us out without a fight?”
“None. They are pirates, after all.”
The wave was complete. The pirates began to yell, “Imposter! He’s not Roberts. Kill him and the rest of this lot!”
Inigo was the first to draw his sword, and as he did so he walked up behind Trajan and addressed Roberts.
“Sir,” he nodded.
“You brought him here?” Roberts asked.
“I did. So he could avenge you.”
“Well,” Roberts said as he turned to face the pirates who were just then beginning to approach them, “let him do that now.”
Joining them from behind came Archard and Westley, who drew their swords and stood next to Inigo. Kadir and Quidest placed themselves beside Mastan, Trajan’s father, the Dread Pirate Roberts.
But it was Trajan who would lead them, as he thrust forward and pointed the sword of Domingo Montoya at the mass of pirates.
“I said, my name is Trajan of Guilder, son of Mastan of the Greenglen, and I will have my revenge!”
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