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Reale Ocho: Silvern at Bahia de Matanzas

Part 8 of Reale Ocho: Silvern at Bahia de Matanzas is posted at Pirates Ahoy! here: http://www.piratesahoy.net/

From Part 7...

Heyn smiled respectfully and bowed slightly again. He thought a short moment and answered, “My Lords, I am certain of the outcome and assure you that I will bring these privateering mongrels of Oostend to heel.”

“How can you be so confident and so sure of this outcome where so many others have failed Sir?” Van Noort querried.

Heyn answered confidently with a widening smile, “Its simple really My Lord. You see your Honors, its a matter of knowing their tricks and how turn them back upon themselves. In short Mijn Heren, it takes a hopelessly damned wretched pirate, to catch a hopelessly damned wretched pirate.” The aged Admirals all laughed in unison in answer – their laughter echoing throughout the gothic hall with a pitch and noise that outshone the ghosts haunting the ancient place.

(And now Part 8 of Reale Ocho: Silvern at Bahia de Matanzas)

“Captain Evertsen, Please inform Captain Heyn of the current situation.” Admiral Van Noort commanded.

“Very Well Sir”, young Captain Evertsen complied. “The Oostenders have been more aggressive than ever before in recent weeks. I am very surprised you were spared their attacks Captain Heyn. The convoy arriving just before yours lost nearly half their numbers to a lightning fast, well organized Privateer fleet. The pirates were so bold indeed that they seized the escort flagship Neptunus and took her a prize. The reports from the returning convoy captains was that the Ostender devils have built a new, specialized vessel. They say she came from nowhere and appeared to be some sort of a large fregatte-galleon combination. This hybrid warship was apparently the secret of their fleet's success, and why they were able to so handily take the flagship. It is said that she is as large as any two decker, but with a single, long, low main gun-deck, with smaller half gun-decks above on each side of her waist. With this configuration, she mounts nearly as many guns as a two decker, and for short range raiding she can be manned with double a two decker's numbers. But she is swift and low in the water as craft half her size. She is also shallower of draft and much faster than any equivalent ship of her size. Several of our agents lost their lives trying to find out who was in command of this fleet and this new ship. We have learned that she is named the Iris.”

Admiral Van Noort spoke, “Word of this attack and this new fleeting ghost ship has spread like wild-fire. Insurance rates have spiraled upwards in undue excess. The subsequent panic among investors has caused the Hereen XVII to call for more warships to be built immediately and for larger naval escorts to be provided for all merchant fleets. Many inland towns have come forward with promises to fund new warships. Both the VOC along with the smaller merchant companies - and even the Sea Beggar captains have all pledged their support in doubling the blockading squadrons around Dunkirk and Oostend.”

There was a brief pause as all admirals turned their gaze upon Heyn. Admiral Van Noort added, “Captain Heyn Sir, your commission to continue as captain of the Hollandia has been unanimously extended and expanded with a promotion to squadron commander. In addition to Hollandia, you now command the 40 gun warships Vergulde Leeuw, Haarlem, and Isaiah, along with two escort pinnaces, the 26 gun Hermes, and the 20 gun Dolfjin. In addition, young Evertsen here is now under your command. He is currently Dolfjin's captain. So Commander, will you take your squadron and go forward to bolster and command the blockade at Ostend?”

Piet did not answer immediately, smiling politely and surveying the faces of the sage, old admirals. He responded, “Nay Sir, I will not.” Van Noort reacted, “What, what? ...then what will you do Sir?”

Heyn answered, “We must not tarry nor wait upon the whims of our offenders Mijn Herren. We must hit them hard my Lords. We must move into the port before first light under cover of fog and darkness. We must cut out and recapture the Neptunus. In addition, we must seize and bring back this new Flemish raider Iris. In short, we must make them pay for their audacity. If you wish to send the Habsburg Flemish and Spanish dogs a bold message that matters, put a quick stop to this absurd panic, and bring carrying rates back down to normal, we must do this.”

Heyn paused and surveyed his captive audience and then continued, “I tell you Mijn Herren, I will be successful. I know a certain reliable person that will be my eyes in the darkness. To add, I think it may be vitally important to consider having a good look at this new ship. If her design is so superior, then perhaps our own shipwrights may wish to copy her - and this Gentlemen, could possibly give us great advantage in what we all know certain – continuing and expanding future conflict.”

There was a sudden uproar of mumbling speech between the admirals as they all agreed and disagreed among themselves. Admiral Van Noort raised his voice, “Gentlemen if you please! …...Pray lets continue... you wish to add something Admiral de Zoete? You have a concern?”

De Zoete countered, “I do Sir. Pray, who is this man we must rely on for your certain sight in the darkness, of which the success of this raid wholly depends Heyn? I think we deserve at least knowing, considering how much we have to lose in the matter.”

“I cannot tell you that Sir.” Heyn answered. “I cannot compromise his identity or he will be useless to us. I can tell you that he is a both a Fleming and the most skilled of pilots - that should suffice.”

Van Noort turned his head towards a clearly wealthy, very opulently dressed man (for Dutch standards) that was sitting next to him, “Laurens?” The illustrious Dr. Reale, visiting from Amsterdam was grimly serious and spoke firmly, “Can so bold a raid be successful? What if you should fail Sir? How will you know in such poor conditions of visability what exact locations these specific vessels lie in? Rather risky don't you think Heyn?”

Heyn fired back, “There is always risk in anything worth doing My Lords. But I ask you this.... where does my own Hollandia lie now? She is moored at the central pier where the people can gaze upon their newly returned symbol of national admiration. I must admit I remain dumbfounded by her popularity, but everyday since I have returned, there is a crowd of onlookers at the pier. This Gentlemen, is because of the stories of her success - which I never could have imagined would have travelled half a world away here - to stir and inspire Dutch pride.”

He continued, “I tell you that the Oostenders have done the same. This Iris and the Neptunus will be at the center of public attention and adoration for another fortnight at least. I will gather all the additional intelligence available concerning their locations. This raid WILL be successful..... or I will not return from it. Gentlemen, Last, I have to insist and stress that you MUST NOT utter any word of my plans outside of this hall – or we are doomed.”

That evening, Piet Heyn was invited to an event in his honor by the wealthy Rotterdam merchant Claes de Reus, in their fine home upon the Oude Haven's waterfront. Also attending were many notable leaders in the community - some from as far away as Amsterdam, Dordrecht, and Den Haag. All of Heyn's officers, to include his newly assigned captains were in attendance as well. Jacobi no longer wore his Jesuit habit and was now dressed in the dark breeches, doublet, and thick white lace colar of a Dutch gentlemen with a tall, black, swept brimmed hat topping off the ensemble. Musicians played, gentry mingled, and men discussed politics, commerce and war. De Rues introduced Heyn to his lovely daughter Anneke and the whole reason for the event was realized when terms for a scheduled courtship between Piet and Anneke were agreed upon.

Heyn was glad when the evening had ended, though he felt an exited thrill knowing that he was courting such a beautiful, humble young woman that also appeared equally eager to be in his company. Heyn had never been good with women. He abhorred vanity, arrogant pride and trifles which in his mind was what made up the majority of the character of most currently available young ladies. He always seemed to say the wrong thing and was not good at all in the art of flattery. He was no courtier and never wanted to be one of those churlish fops. He was a soldier and sailor and refused to present himself as anything but what God had made him. He was outspoken and told the truth no matter how unseemly, and this always seemed to deflect the weaker sex. Indeed Jacobi and Piet had spoken of this very subject and Jacobi had attempted to school the Captain in a little ettiquette concerning courting. Heyn had put the lessons to good use this evening and was beaming with happiness as he entered the carriage with Jacobi – imparting to him the good use of his lessons and the words that had been spoken between the couple. Heyn thanked Jacobi for his excellent tutoring.

After this grand social event was concluded, Heyn's new captains and his own first and second lieutenants - Van Dorn and Van Broekel - as well as Jacobi all met in the dark third story chamber of Het Oude Desiderius, an old Rotterdam tavern that was a somewhat popular haunt of old Dutch seamen. Heyn and his father used to go there a thousand years past after returning from successful hauls. Heyn moved to a dark corner of the pub and sat down with a wisp of a man smoking a long white pipe at a dim table. He was grey haired and thin with a ruddy, leathery countenance. He wore a black cloak and low, wide brimmed black hat that hung over his face. His eyes were so grey that they almost seemed white and he smiled slightly as he looked up at Heyn sitting down next to him.

“Hello Frans, have you considered my proposal?”

The old pilot replied, “Aye Pieter. It's all aranged. The plums are exactly where I said they would be - ripe for the picking. If you follow my lead exactly, we will have those oaks.” The men paused thoughtfully for a few moments.

Heyn spoke, “You know you will never be able to go back to Ostend again Frans.”

Frans answered, “I know Pieter. I owe your father my life and I am sick of the damned Dons in a city that used to be free anyway. I have held on to the past quite long enough. It's time for me to move on. Aye, it's true that my family are all buried there, but so are some eighty-thousand others from that damnable Dago seige. Been almost fifteen years now. I can't bring back the dead. Need to move on now. I appreciate the opportunity Cap'n. You can rely on me Pieter.”

“So you think the plan we discussed last evening can be carried out then?” Piet asked. “Aye Sir, I know it can Sir. With my little hoy leading the way, and you close behind in the heavy morning fog, the watches will recognize both the cut of my prow and the answer of my voice.”

“Good man Frans”, Pieter replied. “Let's join the others upstairs.”

The men clod up the thin stairwell to the third story of the aging building, the floor creaking as the mens footsteps trampled forward up to the table where the waiting officers all stood.

“Evertsen, do you have the maps Sir?” Pieter asked.

Jan Evertsen replied, “Indeed Sir”, as he rolled them out onto the great table that the men huddled around in the light of the lanterns. Heyn pointed down at the map moving his fingers and hands over it's parchment features to point out their imminent destiny. He continued, “Mijn Herren, here before you is Oostend, the destination of our next enterprise. Out here is our own blockade. In the city's outer northwest port are our objectives. We are to capture and escape with the ships Neptunus, a VOC 40 gun warship, and the so called ghost ship that I'm sure you have all been hearing about....the Iris.”

Jacobi laughed a little to himself and Heyn clearly annoyed and surprised at this behavior scolded his friend, “Is something amusing Jacobi?”

“Well yes Sir. Don't you see it Sir? Quite an appropriate name don't you think?” He looked at the officers, who all blankly seemed to miss the humorous discovery all-together. Jacobi continued, “I mean her name Sir, Iris....she travelled swiftly over the bridge of the rainbow. She was the messenger of the gods just as Hermes was.... but she was a goddess of discord. She brought all of the really bad messages of forboding and doom. An appropriate name for this “ghost-ship” don't you think Sir?” He smiled sheepishly.

Heyn turned away in slight disgust from his scholarly friend and continued with his briefing. “Our first order of business two days hence will be to sail to join the Oostend blockade. Once there, the Vergulde Leeuw, and Haarlem will stay with the blockade and move the majority of their crews aboard the Hermes and Dolfjin. I want those ships crammed so full - with every man they can hold and every weapon that can be carried possible that there will be room for nothing else. I will be aboard the Dolfjin with Evertsen. The Hermes will follow closely upon our heels in the fog. I will capture the Iris....here, and Van Broekel aboard the Hermes - with his own sizeable boarding party, will seize the Neptunus...located here.”

“The Hollandia and the Isaiah will follow closely behind and then move to position their broadsides laterally, and if necessary, engage the gun batteries on each side of the De Guel channel in support of both the attack and withdrawal - as we enter and exit the main channel. No lanterns will be lit. When we have determined the wind conditions, my pilot will guess our entry time and I will flash a latern for every ten minutes of estimated time. Based on that signal, the whole blockade will move half a league closer to the shallows of the “Strand”, within cannon range of Oostend's batteries. It will be light by the time we are on our way out of the channel and if the fog has cleared, they will be pouring fire down upon us. All ships outside of the harbor will offer supporting fire. Are there any questions gentlemen?”

Van Dorn spoke up, “Why don't we take more of the squadron into Oostend and give the damned Dago, Flemish dogs a good pummelling Sir?”

Heyn chuckled lightly and smiled, shaking his head side to side, “Karl, while Oostend may be very well known by reputation, and is indeed immense as far as fortresses are concerned, it is quite small in the way of a city. The port is tightly enclosed and littered with a maze of drawbridges and fortified star or arrow shaped bastions. Any other ships going in behind our smallest would just get in the way of our escape and serve as great targets for our enemies. No, Van Dorn, I will not bring any larger ships into the channel. As you can see by the map, the city is surrounded by two starworks-fortified walls. The action of seizing and extracting our prizes, will actually occur at this northwestern section of the town on this single inlet between the first and second walls. Fortunately, my intelligence sources tell me that no warships currently reside in the Niewe Poort. All of the opposing fleet's warships are a bit further inland anchored on the De Guel channel or within the city's eastern entrance, here at the Spanichen Bulwarke. They will not have time to respond or to mount an effective counter-attack. The few patroling craft forward of the Strand will be small shallow-draft scouting craft of less than 30 tons and merely a nuisance. If you run into them, seize them as prizes and put their crews to the sword if they put up resistance.”

Two days later the ships of Commander Heyn's squadron were assembled and ready for their intended mission - hove to and bobbing in the darkness a little over a mile off Ostend's strand in a heavy fog on a high tide. The Dolfjin was moored closely to the side of the Hollandia. Heyn turned to face his men before departing. He shook hands with Jacobi and Van Dorn.

“Good Luck Sir”, Luitenant Van Dorn interjected.

“Indeed Sir, God's blessings upon you Pieter”, Jacobi added.

“Thank you Gentlemen”, Heyn responded. Goodbyes said, Captain Heyn climbed down into the much smaller Dolfjin and joined Evertsen on the little quarter-deck. Evertsen saluted and shook Heyn's hand. “Your man Frans just signaled from the little hoy that he is ready. He only left fifteen minutes past and stated that we have a perfect wind. We will be able to sail reaching both going in and out and will not be against it at any time. He said to signal four lanterns to the fleet.” Heyn knodded his head, “Forty minutes then.....God help us.”

Stay tuned for Part 9 of Reale Ocho: Silvern at Bahia de Matanzas next week....MK







Stay tuned for Part 9 soon.

MK
 
Part 9 of Reale Ocho: Silvern at Bahia de Matanzas is posted at Pirates Ahoy! here: http://www.piratesahoy.net/

From last week...

Two days later the ships of Commander Heyn's squadron were assembled and ready for their intended mission - hove to and bobbing in the darkness a little over a mile off Ostend's strand in a heavy fog on a high tide. The Dolfjin was moored closely to the side of the Hollandia. Heyn turned to face his men before departing. He shook hands with Jacobi and Van Dorn.

“Good Luck Sir”, Luitenant Van Dorn interjected.

“Indeed Sir, God's blessings upon you Pieter”, Jacobi added.

“Thank you Gentlemen”, Heyn responded. Goodbyes said, Captain Heyn climbed down into the much smaller Dolfjin and joined Evertsen on the little quarter-deck. Evertsen saluted and shook Heyn's hand. “Your man Frans just signaled from the little hoy that he is ready. He only left fifteen minutes past and stated that we have a perfect wind. We will be able to sail reaching both going in and out and will not be against it at any time. He said to signal four lanterns to the fleet.” Heyn knodded his head, “Forty minutes then.....God help us.”

(And now Part 9...)

The minutes seemed like hours as the ships moved through the heavy fog in line. A single small lantern in the stern windows of each ship - only viewable from the rear – allowed the group to barely keep close enough to one another that they stayed on course together in line east by south east. As they started into the De Geul channel it was clear that they were not alone. Lantern lights could be seen close-by coming from the southern gun batteries embrasures. In addition, the clear noises of ships working in the darkness towards them from the opposite direction was unmistakeable.

The Hollandia and Isaiah had hove-to as planned at approximate positions forward of Ostend's strand in the darkness and quietly turned their already previously run out guns upon the shore batteries to support the raid – silently awaiting. As the Dolfjin and Hermes turned south, closing upon the opening into Ostend's outermost wall entering the Nieuw Poort inlet, Heyn continued to look closely into the darkness towards the noises of the ships moving northwest out of the De Geul channel. The fog had cleared ever so slightly now and he could make out shapes against the lights of the southern shore batteries - distinct dark sillouettes of two small rakish galleons heading towards the open sea. He wanted to curse because he knew there were probably more enemy ships behind them making for the ocean. All he could do was snicker quietly to himself. Evertsen was aware of the situation as well and his expression was grim as Heyn looked upon his concerned subordinate in the foggy dimness. He whispered to Evertsen, “They are in for a surprise I think, with the blockade now twice its size and twice as close as it was just last evening. Let us pray that they don't run straight into Hollandia or Isaiah.” Evertsen nodded in agreement, “Indeed Sir.”

As Frans's little hoy pushed into the harbor, guards on the wall called out a challenge, “Ahoy there - what ship are you?”

Frans answered, “It is good King Phillip's ship Delilah and I Frans Hecht her captain. I have two vessels with the King's cargo following me.”

The guards yelled back in answer, “Hallo Frans, God's safety upon you and welcome home brother.”

The ships silently seperated, heading to their pre-planned targets. The Delilah came up to the interior sea wall tethering herself closely to a group of small cargo pinnaces. Her crew debarked, running along the wall to where the Iris was docked. Dolfjin eased up next to Iris and her crew quietly crept aboard with Heyn and Evertsen leading the attack. The sentries aboard Iris knew they were being attacked and called out loudly for help as Hermes bumped up against the starboard side of the Neptunus. The foggy darkness was suddenly filled with the clash of metal blades and the loud sporadic barking of small gun-powder weapons.

Frans had set the fire aboard Delilah and the flames spread quickly into the rigging and drying canvas of the pinnaces next to her. As smoke filled the air, Frans abandoned ship and rushed to assist in the battle aboard Iris, whose cables had already been cut. He jumped over the increasing space just in time as she drifted out of her slip. Alarm bells were now ringing and bugles and battle coronets called out through the fog to muster their regiments. As armed Flemings and Spaniards emerged onto the harbor street, they were instantly drawn to the increasing fires of the ships on the south end. A bucket brigade began to form in the hopes of saving the southernmost vessels. Ostenders bravely jumped into the inferno to try to cut the burning ships loose from those not yet caught afire.

Heyn and his men quickly cut down the resistance from the Iris's crew. As Heyn had hoped, most men were ashore on liberty and they faced only a small token force. As Heyn rushed aft towards the officer's quarters, Iris's well dressed and well armed captain emerged with rapier and main gauche drawn. The man wore a fine matching peascod breastplate and morion helmet raised and engraved with biblical scenes. His eyes were as black as coal and full of confident fire and anger, his well groomed black moustaches and goatee were greying noticeably. The two men joined in a well coordinated dance of complex fence moves, with blades scraping, tapping and ringing in the dim light. Suddenly Heyn knew who he was facing and a chill went up his spine.

Piet spoke loudly, “Alvorado!” The Spanish captain stopped in his tracks and lowered his guard slightly. He spoke in Spanish, “How do you know me? I do not know you Sir. You have me at a disadvantage.”

Heyn answered in perfect Spanish, “It is I Alvorado – the COSTURERA.”

Alvarado turned white as alabaster and dropped his sword upon the deck, “Madre de Deus, Can this be? Ghosts from long ago returned a world away.” There was a short pause while the two men stared at one another as if into a mirror.

Heyn broke the silence, “Yes my friend, we have travelled long distances over time. I have gone from being your slave, to commanding the whole blockade that surrounds this place - No longer Costurrera Pieter Heyn the galley slave, but now Captain Piet Heyn, the Squadron Commander.”

Alvorado answered, “I have heard of you Sir, but didn't believe you to be the same person from the galley. I thought the similarities in name a coincidence only. This is indeed a twist of fate, and unfortunately for me, I am now YOUR prisoner Sir. However, the man you may truly wish to have words with - is THERE - upon the street.” Alvorado pointed to the harbor wall street to a flamboyantly dressed officer madly waving his arms, pointing and bellowing orders.

Heyn lowered his weapon and squinted through the smoke. The street was now full of men with torches, the fire cages had been lit, and this combined with the tall flames of the burning ships, caused the street to be bathed in flickering yellow-orange light. Heyn gasped, “Bazan???”

Alvorado answered, “He is.” Heyn spoke again loudly, “BAZAN!” Emotions as old as existence – that he hadn't felt so strongly in years - flowed up through Heyn, emerging in a fiery reaction.

“Evertson, turn the ship around”, Heyn commanded.

Evertson's facial muscles turned up on one side. Evertson looked at Heyn hard, “are you mad Sir? The ship is ours and we are making good our escape with her. The Dolfjin and Hermes are already back out into the channel and the Neptunus is cut out. She is just there on our starboard beam - making sail. You're raid is succeeding Sir. Why do you wish to go back?”

Heyn sighed long and loudly. He sheathed his long shell hilted cutlass and stepped up to the gunwale staring across the increasing space at the spectre of Bazan fading into the increasing smoke and fog. “Never mind Evertson”, Heyn responded. “Ghosts of the past should remain in the past.” Heyn turned to Evertson and Alvarado, “Jan, I know this man. He is an honorable officer. Take him below as my prisoner and please see that he is treated well. He treated me with kindness long ago and now I shall repay the favor.”

As the Iris cleared the inlet with the Neptunus close on her heels, heavy cannon could be heard dead ahead. Muzzle flashes in several different directions lit the fog up in odd colors and shapes. Two distinctly different calibers could be heard – the unmistakeable Dutch 24s from the Hollandia and Isaiah, mixed with smaller sizes, perhaps eight pounders or twelves. As Heyn feared earlier, the small privateer galleons making for the open sea had run straight into the two large covering Dutch men-o-war.

To make matters worse, the fog was beginning to clear as a small sliver of sun edged over the horizon. The Flemish and Spanish battery commanders roused by the alerts and noise of gun-fire rushed to the walls to assess the situation. Standing on the parapets of large guns bristling outward from the southern bastions, they could make out the hazy enemy tri-colors below enmeshed in smoky conflict with their own countrymen's black and yellow colors. Numerous gun-blasts from both the north and south sides of the De Geul channel, erupted in a heavy barrage of deadly iron projectiles upon the Isaiah and Hollandia.

As the escaping ships came within range of the escalating battle, the guns of Fortress Ostend opened up on them from abaft. Numerous high white plumes of water rose all around them from the impacts of near misses, cascading fountains of water down upon their decks. A few odd rounds hit home with telling effects, as wood splinters flew into the air, maiming and killing a few unfortuneate soldiers and sailors.

As the Iris approached to within a carbine's shot of the Hollandia, it was clear that Van Dorn had beaten off the privateer galleons and was making a fighting retreat of it under sail. The Iris and one of the small galleons traded cannon and small arms fire as they passed one another. Hollandia's guns thundered in the morning light engaging both the privateers and the fortified land guns. Because of this, she was becoming the focus of devastating fire from the forts. Heyn flinched as he witnessed the brutal battering his beloved ship was receiving. Captain Heyn commanded the Iris' hastily composed new gun crews to fire upon the Flemings in assistance to Hollandia.

Suddenly a musket ball wizzed through the air striking Piet firmly in the left side of his chest. The captain fell to the deck, grasping the wound with his right hand as blood gushed from out of the hole covering his fingers. Officers and men knelt to help their fallen commander. As the incoming fire became even more intensive, Piet Heyn lost consciousness. Thankfully, the guns of the almost two dozen ships of the blockading Dutch fleet were now within range of the land batteries and opened fire upon the fortifications in support of the retreating ships.

More of the small nimble Flemish galleons emerged from the De Guel channel along with supporting fast-galleys. A dozen of the small, agile enemy ships were closing fast on Heyn's fleeing vessels. Isaiah was surrounded by four of the little galleons. A fire had broken out during the fighting and was now spreading over half of the embattled ship's hull and sails - blowing irrevocably into two of its smaller entangled attackers. There was no saving her and men could be seen jumping overboard for their lives and struggling to get into boats.

The fire aboard Isaiah had become a white hot inferno, engulfing the ships around her as numerous explosions sent debris high into the air. The heat from the rising pillar of fire could be felt several hundred yards away. Like it's namesake, a prophet of old - protecting his flock and thwarting his enemies - Isaiah's bright flames lit the way forward for the fleeing ships while preventing passage from their pursuers. Thick black and grey smoke from the burning pyre settled upon the water obscuring the retreating ships. The battle was over. The raid had succeeded with the loss of a single man of war.

When word of the successful raid reached Rotterdam, bells rang far and wide from the towers of the churches across the land. People assembled in the streets to hear the news from the arriving courier ships. As the Iris, Neptunus, and Hollandia slowly settled into their births, throngs of excited Hollanders lined the waterfront.

Before departing for shore, Heyn had awoken. “Where is O'Shiel?”, Heyn asked.

Jacobi answered, “He was shot himself while attending to the wounded on deck.”

Heyn thought for a moment, “What is his condition?”

“I don't know if he will survive Sir. He was shot in the head and has not awoken. The ball didn't penetrate his skull but hit him hard and cut his scalp to the bone halfway across the top of his head. I stopped the bleeding and was able to stitch and dress the wound. He is sleeping and his breathing is normal which is a very good sign that he will live”, Jacobi answered.

“You Jacobi? You mended the surgeon?”, Heyn enquired surprisingly.

“Yes me Sir”, Jacobi responded. The men paused and looked at one another, Jacobi hovering over Heyn who laid upon the captain's bunk aboard the Iris.

Jacobi continued, “I mended your wound as well Sir. Praise our Savior that the bullet hit none of your vital organs. I extracted the ball and stitched you up. Your muscle was severed badly and you lost much blood. You must rest now Sir”, Jacobi responded.

“Your knowledge and skills never cease to amaze me my friend. I thank you”, Piet commented as he put his right hand upon Jacobi's wrist and grasped it in friendship.

Heyn was moved ashore on a makeshift gurney of canvas and bedding. As they crossed the final distance to the shore, Heyn leaned up to look at the ships in the harbor, scanning carefully for his own Hollandia. Piet's heart sank when he saw her. Her main topmast was gone and half of her stern looked as if it were shot away. There was no part of her that was not covered in holes. Heyn coughed, and Jacobi placed his hand upon his shoulder, “Sir you must lay back down. Hollandia can be repaired. You Sir cannot. Your flesh must be allowed to heal”, Jacobi entreated.

Next to Hollandia laid the Iris. She was long, low, slender, and rakish resembling an East Indian plantain with it's ends upturned in the water. She was as graceful as she was beautiful and was as carefully developed and birthed as any thoroughbred. Everyone looked upon her with great curiosity and interest.

As the group of men holding Heyn's gurney moved upon the street, groups of soldiers dispersed the crowds to make room for them to place Captain Heyn into an awaiting carriage - to be taken to a quiet place of recovery in the country.

Stay tuned for Part 10 next week.... MK

MK
 
Part 10 of Reale Ocho: Bahia de Matanzas is posted at the main Pirates Ahoy page here: http://www.piratesahoy.net/

MK

And now Part 10

Recovery and a new Mission:

Heyn suddenly found himself in the familiar and beautiful tropical bay once again. He decided to follow a path into the jungle behind him. The path rose steeply higher and higher until the soldier found himself climbing up one of the tall steep table-topped mountains ringing the bay. As he climbed ever higher the weather freshened into a strengthening, stormy wind with the sky darkening noticeably above him. As he reached the top of the cliffy precipice, he caught his breath in satisfaction and walked upwards a slight distance more upon the small plateau to get the best view possible. He turned to stand upon the highest ledge and looked out across the wide vista of endless ocean beyond.

Piet stared down into the undulating silver-laced swells from the high rocky cliffs above. The olive sea below churned turbulently and glistened with a strange greenish-blue light breaking its way through swirling grey and pastel clouds overhead. The wind was so loud that barely anything else could be heard. The clouds countinued to darken and the sky seemed to be more angry than a jilted woman's scorn.

There were ships riding high atop that choppy turbulence, bobbing and tossing from one enormous wave to the next – burying their prows deeply into the watery cliffs ahead of them - looking as if they would burrow into the deep never to return - but then at once they would emerge again and slowly ride up - up, upwards to the crest of the next great swell. Suddenly beams of brilliant light burst forth out of the dark clouds in scores of widening angular beams from a dozen morphing openings. The light caused both the clouds above and the water below to take on the color and luster of glowing pearl.

More ships burst up from out of the depths. Some still displayed telltale signs of how they met their demise. Others bobbed atop the mixing deep in pieces coming back together, water gushing from out their holds and cabins. Visible holes in the sides and bottoms of many showed they had been destroyed by fires or cannon, or rocks and shoals. Pieter recognized several of them... and then even more. He saw lost ships that had belonged to his father's herring fleet. He saw Portuguese and Spanish ships he'd sent to the bottom himself. He marveled at the spectacle of the churning ships rising and swirling above the angry waters whose waves seemed to rise even higher in protest of losing claimed possessions.

Then several rising luminescent streams of steam emerged from the deep - moving in circular motions above a now forming maelstrom below that the broken ships danced haphazardly atop. The glowing ghost-like strands ascended and crisscrossed in a lacey helix to the heavens and widened as they formed. Light glowing spirits of the dead surfaced and ascended through the light of the delicate other-worldly corridors. Pieter stared in awe, making out the features of some of the spirits that flittered by him. To his dread and fear, some he even recognized – he had sent them to the next life himself. His father swept by, smiling at him as he passed, his skin glowing as if it were something both of this world and the next. He beckoned to him to follow, but Pieter looking down at his own hands could clearly see that they were still of the same crude flesh he had always known. Then a great low voice boomed calmly out of the heavens and echoed across all space, “AND THE SEA SHALL GIVE-UP HER DEAD.”

Piet awoke breathing in deep and fast as if his breath had been stolen from him. The sudden movement stirred Jacobi from his light sleep in the chair next to the captain's bedside where he had posted himself in vigil.

“Where am I?”, Piet asked.

“You are home Pieter”, Jacobi responded.

“I had a dream Jacobi – a terrible and disturbing dream”, Heyn commented.

“Tell me about it Sir?” Jacobi said curiously.

“I witnessed the terrible beginnings of the ressurrection Jacobi. The dead were rising upwards from the sea. I saw many men that I had killed. I saw my father rising above me - beckoning me....but I could not follow. All I could do was watch in disbelief. And then God himself announced that he was calling all to judgement that had been claimed by the sea. God's power to move the deep was so great that all of the lost ships below were spewed forth above once again. I tremble to think about what I have seen. I fear I have seen this for a reason – as a warning perhaps.”

Piet paused for a moment and then continued, “I fear that I will never be able to follow my father Jacobi. He was a good, godfearing and happy man. He was never bitter or mean spirited or revengeful. I could never follow him. I am angry and vengeful. I have killed without thought. The debt I carry of the souls I've killed – heretics or not – is too heavy to be forgiven I fear. What do you think Jacobi? Can there be a such an event as I have witnessed and such a grand power as to seperate the whole ocean sea from her own wide bed?”

Jacobi immediately answered, “Oh Pieter of course. I believe so with all my heart. If God could make the world itself and set the stars upon their axis, use time as a plaything, and create all life upon earth's surface and below, do you not think that he could just as easily pull it back apart?

Pieter my friend. You should not worry so. I can see that you are a good man within, or I would not be your friend. There are reasons for what you have done and God our great Judge considers all things a man has to contend with in this life. No burden of sin is too heavy for our Lord's forgiveness. This is indeed another reason I have broken with my church. I have learned through diligent study that if a man believes in our Lord Christ's sacrifice and forgiveness, that - that man will repent and make amends to the daily living of his life. Good will come from that man thereafter, and when that man stands before God on that great day of reckoning - that you have seen yourself the beginnings of - Christ will say, “His name is written in the lamb's book of life and he is absolved of all he has done – I myself have paid his debt.”

Jacobi observed Pieter closely to see if he understood what he had said and added. “You are a soldier and a leader of men Piet Heyn, and you must follow your calling in this life and defend our Fatherland. BUT, always remember in the carrying out of your duties that killing for killing's sake is of the devil. Remember that the women and children are not your enemies. Remember that those who beg for mercy, who are naked or starving, should be given mercy, shelter and fare. The greatest leaders are the ones that remember this. You can be strong and ruthless while still being compassionate and forgiving. Choose who is to live and die for the RIGHT reasons and try to allay the suffering of those who have borne your wrath when your victory is complete.”

The two men looked awkwardly away from one another in contemplative silence. After a moment, Piet broke the silence, “Thank you Jacobi. I do believe there is still hope for me. Thank you for reminding me thus. You are a true friend to do so. I hope you are right. That man I told you about Jacobi – the cruel thoughtless Spaniard captain Bazan I told you of..(pause)...he was there at Oostend on the stone wall as we were making our escape. I wanted to go back and kill him more than anything I've ever wanted. I have not forgiven him nor do I know if I ever could. I hate that man with every fiber of my being and that hatred has kindled my vengeance and caused me to kill many that I may have spared otherwise. And that Jacobi makes me hate him and want to kill him even more. As you can see, I am still quite vengeful and I do not know if that twist in my trunk can ever be undone.”

Jacobi countered, “You can only do your best Pieter. You must pray for the power and the serenity of spirit to be able to someday forgive this man and finally give up all the hate and anger that have consumed you for so long. I will pray for you Pieter.”

“Thank you Jacobi, Now where is my ship?” Piet enquired as he began to struggle to sit up in his bed.

“You must lay back down Pieter. You are still weak. Hollandia is being refitted Sir, but you have a new ship now.” Jacobi answered.

Heyn looked confused as Jacobi called for assistance. The wounded captain had been in and out of consciousness for over a week as he recovered from an infection that had developed in the hole left by the musket ball he received off Oostend's strand aboard the Dolfijn. During this time the Admiralty had posted their best physicians to Heyn's bedside as well as lingering couriers that moved back and forth to report on the captain's condition.

In the days that followed the veteran captain healed quickly and was soon walking in the gardens with Anneke to take the air. Anneke visited everyday and Pieter was at this point completely smitten. Only a short time later the couple were married in a great celebration that not only marked the union of the distinguished pairing, but also of the victorious raid upon Oostend and the brazen seizure of the sleek and mysterious privateer warship Iris. The wedding and banquet were held at Noordeinde Palace and Prince Maurice himself attended the festivities and personally congratulated Heyn.

After the feast and entertainment were concluded, the two men walked together in the gardens behind the Oude Hof. The two men spoke to one another in an amicable fashion as if they were longtime friends. Heyn had met the Prince briefly once before, prior to his succession, and was duly impressed with the man. Prince Maurice of Nassau was dressed modestly in a black coat, breaches and socks. While the embroidery was of fine quality, only the extremely fine lace of his silken collar belied his wealth and station. He also wore a fine but soldierly and functional rapier, that gave another small hint of his nature.

Maurice was a soldier and despite his wealth and education, had spent as much time or more on campaign than at home. When at home, he ceaselessly studied military science and history and looked for ways to improve the Provinces military forces. His reforms were dramatic and he was certain they would give the Netherlands a great advantage against the Spaniards when hostilities broke out once again.

The Prince spoke to Heyn, “Captain Heyn, you are audacious Sir, but you are a thinking man. I have reviewed your actions in the east and am aware of your strategem in this latest action as well. Some say you are reckless, but I see meticulously calculated forethought in your operations. You are a captain among captains Sir. You can best serve us where your talents can be brought against a thinking enemy. You are a fox hunter Sir and have shown adeptness at outsmarting the fox. We are cut from the same cloth you and I Heyn. I myself am making preparations for renewed conflict with the Spanish. In the meantime I must strengthen our position.”

The men were surrounded by a large and heavily armed body guard. These men were hand selected and were sworn to give their lives to protect the Prince. They came from only the most trusted families and were trained in swordsmanship and marksmanship from their youth. Prince Maurice's father William the Silent had been shot and killed by an assissin that infiltrated his household and hid among his courtiers as a trusted agent for some time before he finally acted. That had been the second attempt on the Prince and was the first assassination of a head of state with a hand-gun. The assassin was actually a Catholic fanatic who had been inspired to act for the betterment of his impoverished family by the publicly advertized reward of 20,000 gold reales offered in return for the Prince's death by King Phillip II of Spain himself.

The Prince continued, “I am seeking to strengthen our position by making alliances and friends wherever possible. The French could set the balance against us if they so chose to. We have signed a treaty with the French and I am sending Admiral De Zoete with a couple of squadrons to assist them. We have agreements with many Hansa cities and German Princes. They desire our trade, the movement of their goods through our ports, as well as our capital and specialists to develop their industry – especially in guns. While the English are our competitors, they are also Protestant brothers. We should not worry about them too much. We have double their ships and many of their men serve in our army.

The Prince stopped walking and extended his hand out to gently pull a daffodil towards his nose as he bent over slightly to inhale its sweet light perfumed scent. He stood back up smiled and breathed the air in deeply and belched. “A fine banquet that. Mmmmm, the meat was so savory. - Ah well...The English have just formed a pact with Venice to assist them in their fight against the Habsburgs. You'll remember that just a few years back the Venetians completely broke with the Babylonian whore of Rome, completely ignoring their entire nation's excommunication for over a year. Perhaps with our help and England's help they may do the same again. The Doge faces off with both Spain and the Empire in the Adriatic. I have spoken with both the English and Venetian ambassadors just yesterday and have agreed to assist them as well. We will honor our treaty with the Venetians by sending a squadron. The ambassador has expressed an interest in you Heyn. I would wager that if they are smart and put you in command, I think you could bring those pesky Uskoks to heel in a few months time.”

Heyn answered, “Uskoks your Excellency?”

Prince Maurice answered, “Yes Uskoks. The Admiral will brief you. I wish you the best of luck Sir. We may be in a state of truce with Spain here at home, but you will do whatever is necessary against the Spanish supporting these Uskoks in the Adriatic in compliance with our treaty to Venice. Good hunting Captain Heyn.”

Heyn acknowledged, “I will not dissappoint your Excellency.”

The two men shook hands and Heyn bowed as the Prince and his retinue headed back up the decorative stone walk to the Palace. Heyn turned to face Admiral Van Noort. The Admiral smiled, “Ever been to Venice Heyn?”

“No my Lord”, Heyn answered.

The Admiral snickered to himself and continued, “Strange people those, with strange customs. Decadent and self loving. They care more about their clothes and the way they look than where they live. A finely dressed Count might just live in a piss hole when he leaves the Doge's court in the evening. I think you will find it interesting. You will most certainly learn patience. These Uskoks the Prince spoke about are nothing but Croatian pirates that are being supplied by the Austrians and Spanish. The Hollandia is months away from being finished with her refit. I want you to take the Neptune in her place along with the rest of your squadron. I have no other ship to replace the Isaiah with at the moment, but will send another ship to you when possible. My best word of advice to you Heyn is to play the part of the polite and compliant diplomat to the Venetian's faces, but act on your own best judgement when you're in action.”

Heyn replied shaking his head in resignation, “I can do nothing but use my best judgement Sir, because I am a woefully poor actor or liar. There is a reason that I'm not a diplomat. I will endeavor to do what I am able according to my best judgement and God's guiding hand.”, Heyn shook the Admiral's hand.

Van Noort bid him farewell, “God's speed Sir.”

Stay tuned for Part 11 next week.... MK
 
Part 11 of Reale Ocho: Bahia de Matanzas is posted at the main Pirates Ahoy page here: http://www.piratesahoy.net/

From Part 10...

The Admiral snickered to himself and continued, “Strange people those, with strange customs. Decadent and self loving. They care more about their clothes and the way they look than where they live. A finely dressed Count might just live in a piss hole when he leaves the Doge's court in the evening. I think you will find it interesting. You will most certainly learn patience. These Uskoks the Prince spoke about are nothing but Croatian pirates that are being supplied by the Austrians and Spanish. The Hollandia is months away from being finished with her refit. I want you to take the Neptune in her place along with the rest of your squadron. I have no other ship to replace the Isaiah with at the moment, but will send another ship to you when possible. My best word of advice to you Heyn is to play the part of the polite and compliant diplomat to the Venetian's faces, but act on your own best judgement when you're in action.”

Heyn replied shaking his head in resignation, “I can do nothing but use my best judgement Sir, because I am a woefully poor actor or liar. There is a reason that I'm not a diplomat. I will endeavor to do what I am able according to my best judgement and God's guiding hand.”, Heyn shook the Admiral's hand.

Van Noort bid him farewell, “God's speed Sir.”

And now Part 11. Voyage to Venice...

The voyage to Venice was frought with danger from the day after the convoy cleared the Maas onward. Numerous small storms and privateer attacks occurred on the path to the pillars. Fortunately the Dutch squadron was not alone. Accompanying Heyn's five ships (Neptunus - 42 guns, Vergulde Leeuw - 40 guns, Haarlem - 40 guns, Hermes - 26 guns, Dolfijn - 20 guns) were two large merchant galleons of over 40 guns each: a Venetian ship of over 500 tons - the Maddalena, and another of nearly the same burthen, built in Holland as a gift to the Doge - the Sint Mark. In addition, the convoy rendevoused with a small English convoy of three small galleons of around 30 guns each, also on their way to Venice for the same purpose – the Thomas Moore, Nell, and Stag. The convoy found itself under attack numerous times by Spanish patrols and Moorish corsairs once they entered the Med.

The Venetian ambassador Count Tommaso Orfini returned with Heyn's fleet and preferred the spartan quarters offered aboard the Neptunus rather than the luxurious apartments aboard the Maddalena. Piet was both surprised and impressed by this, but soon regretted it. The ambassador followed Heyn about like some sort of admiring shadow. He cocked about the quarter deck as if he were one of Heyn's own officers and asked so many numerous questions to the point of not just annoying the Captain, but also every other officer aboard as well. Heyn did not wish to offend the Count and knew he was just trying to get to know them better, and learn something of how the Dutch handled their vessels. Heyn actually was duly impressed by the ambassador's quest for knowledge, but was forced to form covert briefings with selected officers in order to escape the eavesdropping Orfini - who never missed a meal with Neptunus' officers.

The convoy did not take the route Heyn had originally planned. Because of the storms and the attacks, the small fleet had to put in at the Spanish port of Palma on the great island of Majorca. Captain Heyn was very concerned the wide low fort, flanked by an old castle on its north end, would open fire as they approached. Luckily the harbor was almost empty with the exception of small fishing and transport vessels. Spain and the Netherlands were still under a truce regardless of the blatant state sponsored privateering on both sides. The Spanish Governor of Mallorca was a polite and generous host and the fleet stopped for a week to undergo repairs and take on fresh water without incident. The Governor knew Heyn's force could very probably seize Palma if he so chose to. With Heyn's reputation being that of a well known pirate to the Spanish, the grandees of Palma sighed with a collaborative relief as Heyn's convoy dissapeared over the horizon.

After this break, the wind blew the fleet east-southeast. Heyn put the fleet in a diamond formation with the smaller more agile ships in the center. The Stag and Dolfijn were placed forward as advance guards. The fleet was attacked again by a sizeable force of Moorish galleys southwest of Sardinia. Despite this force being over twice as large as Heyn's little fleet, they were handily beaten off by the better armed Galleons and Fregattes. Several of the disabled galleys that had come very close in failed boarding attempts, were broken up and mowed under the keels of the much heavier Northern European galleons - with their sturdy construction and high freeboard offering great advantages.

After this battle, the fleet was forced to put in at the north African port of Annaba for repairs and provisions. As the fleet approached, Heyn ordered the Dutch ensigns and other colors struck from the convoy's fore and mainmasts. He hoisted a white flag of truce from the mainmasts of the Neptunus and Dofijn.

Anchored in the harbor before them, laid a large old Italian carrack flying the flag of Genoa and a couple of unidentified naos. More importantly, several well-manned large war galleys flying the long green pennants of the yellow crescent moon of the Ottoman Navy, bristled with small caliber weaponry, but made no signs of preparation for combat. The port was surprisingly lush and green with beautiful hills rising to its rear. A large old castle overlooked the harbor atop rocky cliffs rising above the protruding south spur of the port's semi-circular mouth. Below, behind the defensive walls to the rear of the ancient stone docks could be seen several Muslim minarets. On the main hill above the town was what looked to be a modest old romanesque bassilica, but it was devoid of any towers or crosses to identify it as Christian.

Annaba was formerly the ancient Carthaginian and Roman city of Hippo. Saint Augustine himself hailed from the old city and had written the famous “City of God” there. Some of his bones lay in the old church above the town, and despite the fact the city dealt in the Christian slave trade (just as many other Ottoman north African cities did), a Christian and Jewish quarter still existed there - just as in Jerusalem. The infamous Turkish pirate Barbarossa had taken the city for the Ottoman Empire in the 1520's and the castle and walls flew the bright red Ottoman flag with a single yellow crescent moon in their centers.

Heyn's entourage was greeted by numerous distiguished men of trade and administration. Oddly enough several were dressed in European attire. The men were disappointed to find that Heyn was not there to trade and also had no interest in buying slaves. An agreement for harbor services and even a prisoner exchange was brokered through the local Sultan of Annaba. Captured Moorish and Turkish prisoners taken in the numerous attacks and the recent battle, were exchanged for imprisoned Christians. Heyn kept his men and the fleet in a high state of alertness throughout this time. The commander was constantly on the lookout for suspicious activity and convinced the Moors would attack. However, the Sultan kept the accord and the Europeans were allowed to depart without incident.

The remainder of the journey went off without any significant encounters until Heyn's convoy sailed mid-way up the Adriatic Sea. As the fleet began navigating into the wide channel between the Adriatic islands of Bisevo and Vis, the lingering light fog of morning's first light began to clear. Just as the round-topped rocky islands began to show their bare hilltops, the Sint Mark and Maddalena came under attack by an almost unseen enemy. The large Venetian ships clearly identified their nationality, both flying the Lion of Saint Mark. In addition, they were the furthest ships to the rear - making up the aft point of Captain Heyn's diamond formation. The sudden cannon and musket fire immediately alerted the rest of the fleet that they were under attack.

Heyn aboard the Neptunus had positioned himself at the forward point of the diamond formation behind the advance guard. The convoy had been beating nor'norwest against the wind coming mostly from the north. The Maddalena, with a sudden shifting weather wind, was able to take advantage of the situation by speeding herself forward into the protection of the smaller central ships that were simultaneously turning themselves to assist in engaging the unknown antagonists. The Maddalena's now scattered attackers haphazardly broke off their assault and moved to join in the attack upon the Sint Mark.

Heyn immediately peeled the Neptunus off from the convoy upon the prevailing northwest wind sailing quickly to the east side of the formation coming about reaching south. The Vergulde Dreak and Haarlem also broke off from the formation, pointing east and bringing their starboard broadsides to bear in support of the assailed ships. Neptunus handled and pointed well and gained speed quickly, “Still not as fast as Hollandia”, Heyn thought to himself.

As Heyn approached the beleagured Sint Mark he surprisingly believed they were under attack by yet more Barbary corsairs. He was dumbfounded that they would attack this far north and east, but then noticed the small attacking craft were notably different. The attacking vessels resembled Moorish galleys, but were smaller, thinner, and longer with no masts or sails. These long fast boats were like some sort of low oversized canoe bristling with oars.

The Sint Mark was surrounded by these little craft and their swarthy crews swarmed upwards - climbing the sides of their intended prize on dozens of grappling lines. “Uskoks!”, the Count exclaimed with surprise and disgust. “Don't they know when they are outmatched? They would attack the very host of Heaven itself”, he added.

The besieging warriors looked as if they were from another age. Most of them were covered in dark, protective leather jerkins trimmed in furs. Many wore bits of mail and plates of armor added to these crude harnesses. Roughly half of their complement were bare headed with the other half wearing leather or fur covered protective gear and helmets of every type and age - from rusty old skull-caps, to the latest captured Venetian morions. Over their shoulders and backs hung all manner of the latest to the most obsolete of firearms, crossbows, and bladed weapons.

Captain Heyn ordered his gunners to seize all cannon fire and musterred every musketeer to the starboard gunwales and crow's nest – fighting tops. “So these are Uskoks”, Heyn spoke loudly. “Let's see how well they retire. MAKE READY! Take aim! FIRE!”

The Uskoks were now receiving fire on three sides. The Sint Mark had lost nearly a third of her numbers, but put up a good fight, doing an admirable job of repelling the beseiging attackers in a fiersom hand to hand battle. Musketeers in the tops poured fire down into the ascending Uskok ranks.

The Neptunus was now opposite the Sint Mark, no more than forty yards distance with every matchlock and wheellock brought to bear over the starboard gunwale. The Vergulde Draek was forward of the attack just out of musket range, but was lobbing rounds into the open kill-sack hitting the Uskok fastboats and any men still aboard with withering cannonfire. The water below soon became the scene of floating furry corpses and the debris of broken boats. The dark bodies were thick in the water and upon the shattered debris, resembling dead animals.

Captain Heyn barked orders, “Luitenant Van Dorn, launch boats to assist the Sint Mark. Try to pick up some living prisoners if you can.” “Aye Sir,” Van Dorn complied.

The Uskoks were now in full disordered retreat. With very few boats still seaworthy, the living swarmed aboard the few still floating vessels with many bailing as the rowers pulled for their lives. Count Orfini exclaimed loudly, “Molto ben fatto! By God's good grace Captain Heyn! You've routed the brutto Habsburg dogs! Well done Sir! Well done indeed!”

Captain Heyn smiled. “Poor devils. It's apparent they thought us a merchant convoy. They expected to find twenty or thirty sailors aboard the Sint Mark, not two to three hundred experienced soldiers. Brave men these. They fought on with the fiercest voracity even after realizing what they had run into. No one can doubt their bravery despite their retreat.”

Signal flags were hoisted and the fleet hove to in order to assess damage, collect prisoners, recover boats and begin treating the wounded. Van Dorn returned to the Neptunus with roughly a dozen Uskok prisoners. As the disarmed and defeated men began climbing onto the deck amidships they looked around themselves with defiant curiosity, not one showing any signs of fear, facing the alert and well armed Dutch crew of the Neptunus. Luitenant Van Dorn stepped forward with one of the Uskok prisoners beside him, “This is supposedly one of their leaders Sir. He speaks fairly good Spanish.”

He was young and handsome with a long thin face and pronounced beakish nose. His eyes were a searing greyish green and he was clean shaven except for a neat downturned moustache. His armor was of a better quality than the men behind him, but still a hybrid harness of plates and mail allowing for good protection while providing full freedom of movement. He wore a gold chain around his neck with a well smithed shield and crest ornament hanging below the center point of his gorget plate.

Heyn stepped forward to meet him and greeted him in Spanish, “I am Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation Starship Enterprise”.....sorry couldn't resist – as if anyone is actually reading this anyway- no one ever comments – I must really stink. “I am Captain Piet Heyn of the United Provinces.” The Uskok leader responded, “I am Bosko Lenkovic, and if you mean to behead us I can promise you that ten of yours will be beheaded for every one of mine.”

Heyn was taken aback by the young man's bold words, but confused by the statement. He responded, “See here lad, why would I want to behead you?”

Count Orfini engaged the discussion, “We beheaded scores of them a few years ago, including many of their leaders, in an attempt to stop the piracy. It just made things worse and they have never forgotten it.” Orfini querried the young Uskok, “Lenkovic eh? You wouldn't be grand relations to Ivan Lenkovic would you?”

Bosko answered, “He was my Grandfather.”

Orfini smiled wide and clapped his hands together in an exuberant and effeminate little gesture. He spoke in Dutch, “This man is the son of a legend. He is the closest thing those damned Uskoks have to a prince! The Doge will be so pleased Captain Heyn. This is a sure destiny Sir. You were meant to come here and help us! The count laughed out loud and the young Uskok leader scowled seemingly knowing what was being said without understanding the language.

Heyn answered the young man, “I will not have your head Sir, and we will see to your men's welfare.” He paused and turned to his officers, “Mr. Van Dorn, take these men below. See that they receive water and rations, and have Mr. O'Shiel see to their wounds.” “Aye Sir”, Luitenant Van Dorn replied.

As the fleet finally approached the outer harbor of Venice two days later, men moved to the gunwales to get a better look at the thousands of vessels and the many islands of distant buildings slowly revealing a panoramic spectacle of waterbound architecture to the onlookers. The miles of colorful stucco structures revealed seamingly endless expanses of red, pinkish and orangey roof tiles broken up occasionally with the numerous green leaded domes and the higher lead rooftops of churches and large republic buildings. Though of a distinctly Italian style and of an obviously much earlier construction, Venice was perched upon the waters much like many of their own home cities.

The ships were moored at the outermost docks and large decorative gondolas moved into position to pick up the officers and prisoners going ashore. As Heyn finally stepped atop the stone jetty into the city itself he was spellbound by the beauty and oppulance of St. Mark's Square, the skirting stone rennaissance arcades gracefully framing the square with the Doge's palace to his right. He had been in great cities before, but the granduer of this one set him awestruck with the great bell tower to his left, the impressive statuary atop massive monumental columns, and the beautiful Byzantine styled cathedral just beyond the palace.

There to meet Captain Heyn, Count Orfini and their entrourage at the dock was the Dutch consul to Venice. “Ah Captain Piet Heyn I presume, I am Dirck Van Sonnevelt and this is my son Jurgen.” The men shook hands and tipped their hats. The man refused to look Piet straight in the eye and his hand shake was soft and giving like rotten fish. Piet knew he did not trust him. He actually knew the man's family. His father had gone over to the Spanish side during the seige of Leiden and many of the family took positions far away from their homes after the Spanish were repelled. Van Sonnevelt was very serious and did not smile at all. He continued,“The Doge will be anxious to receive you - possibly in a day or two. We were not expecting you so soon. My attendant Giacomo will see you to quarters.”

Count Orfini interjected, “Nonsense Sir, I will see Heyn and his officers put up in style! Leave it to me. I will take care of the Republic's guests in a grand style.”

Van Sonnevelt paused with a slight scowl that was hard to read as being unhappy with the way events were unfolding or his own regular and natural facial expression. “Very well Mio Signore. Captain Heyn I will send a messenger twice or more daily with news of a possible meeting time with the Doge. Until tomorrow Sir”, He bowed slightly and the two men tipped their hats.

The Count faced Heyn and smiled wide. “Follow me gentlemen. We have not far to walk. Wait tilla you see my house. You will love it Sir - and the food, the food itsa the best in Venice. I have a cook that is not only beautiful but (he paused)....I hope she is stilla there. I have been away in your country for almost three years.....” Heyn looked at Jacobi and the two men smiled at one another and the others following. They were all hungry and could hear the grumbling of one another's stomachs as they stepped forward upon the meandering, smooth, worn stone walks and bridges of the ancient waterbound city.

Stay tuned for Part 12. Venetian Intrigue... MK
 
Part 12 of Piet Heyn - Reale Ocho: Silvern at Bahia de Matanzas. (Venetian Intrigue) is posted at the Main PA sight here http://www.piratesahoy.net/

MK
 
OK unless I get a few people to comment that they would like me to continue posting this story, I'm stopping here. Those that are interested but don't say anything, will just have to wait for the books (4 to 5 stories a book: haven't decided yet).​
And for others wanting to know why I haven't released my period mods yet, I'm waiting for the Germans to get done with the Zeven Provincien that they are working on. I'm not doing any more mod work or releases until I get that ship. I'm thoroughly enjoying my version of the game though!!!! It's fantastic! The mast crashing bug was actually a very simple problem involving weight factors and waterline numbers being screwed up. MK​
 
I can't believe no one has commented! I am a longtime lurker and could not stay quiet this time. My wife and I really enjoyed your writing and wish you would give us more. Every week! I stumbled into Pirates Ahoy two years back when my high school age son started playing COAS. He's long since become bored of it, but I developed an addiction. I am an illiterate as far as computers go, but my son keeps me up to date. Everything just up and dissappeared a week ago and I almost panicked. My son found where you had moved to. I liked the old site better.

My wife teaches 9th grade and read the John Hawkins story to her class. She was waiting for you to finish the Heyn story, but doesn't think it would be suitable because of the religious undertones. I for one love what you've done there and it probably goes right over most peoples heads. I am not alone. There are some other lurkers with me. Please give us more and for everyone else out their staying silent speak up. My wife actually gets stories from other sites for school as well and said you should post your stories there. She says you would get way more readers. If you are interested, I will give the information.

I'll make the other lurkers get accounts and speak up too if it will get you to keep going. Please give us more.....THANKS!

"Barnacle"
 
I missed your postmodernknight1 and was wondering why you have been so silent for so long. It was too hard to comment before, and now you are buried. You need your own thread.
 
Ahoy barnacle scraper, welcome aboard mate! :dance

I have been trying to tell MK for a while now that there were many people out there reading his stories, thanks for signing up, posting, and confirming that there are several out there.

Hylie is correct, the old front page was a pain to have to sign up for just to comment, and that is part of the reason that we made the move to XenForo. I agree that the look of the old forum was better, but the functionality, reliability and speed so far with XenForo is major improvement! It will take some time to get the site back with all the little touches that the old one had, but it will get there... eventually.
 
Wow, I got a reply!!!! Even one is something! YEAY! I've been away for a couple weeks. I'm gonna be away more and more. I am in the final process of retiring from the military after 24 years. I plan on spending a lot of time going sailing FOR REAL. This time next year I may be submitting my stories from the Bahamas or Antilles.

So Barnacle, Thanks for all the kind words mate! WOW I can't believe your wife read the story to her class. The slavery content and the religious content in the very graphic dreams - with nudity even - I would think would make the San Juan de Ulloa story PG13+. I thought the religious symbolism was as powerful as in my current story. I still have some crazy surprizes in this one. Still thanks very much. With my schedule I don't know if I can promise every week. I thought about just putting the whole story in here in one post, but that would mean folks wouldn't come back for more.

So I noticed there were at least thirty or more hits in just the last two weeks, so I will put up another installment and see if anyone is interested still. I do want to continue because I want to post my next story. The next story is much shorter but much more supernatural, so "THE MADNESS OF ADMIRAL DE ESTREES" may appeal more to our younger A.D.H.D. audience.

I will post what was on the front page of the other site before it got pulled down, along with the part after it. So here it is....


And now Part 12.

The Dutchmen were treated like royalty by Count Orfini and his entire staff. As the days slowly passed, courriers came to Count Orfini's home once or twice daily with the same message – the Doge was pleased that the Dutch had come to assist him, and that Captain Heyn and his party had arrived safely. They would soon meet when the Doge's busy schedule allowed.

Orfini did his best to entertain his guests with divertions, excellent fare and company. He introduced Heyn's men to his own daughters and their friends as well as several other charming local ladies of the middle gentry. Mr. O'Shiel made his way back and forth reporting to Captain Heyn on the crew's condition. Jacobi and O'Shiel thrilled the group with lively duets they had been working on playing fiddle and recorder. After a few days of this and no movement forward from the Doge's palace, Orfini decided to leave the confines of his great old rennaissance house for other entertainment.

Orfini took Heyn's officers to a new and secretive place south in the district of Lida, only known to the very wealthy - the Regetto cassino. The Dutchmen cavorted with courtesans and gambled with cards and dice to pass the evening. The place was obviously a large old Italian villa converted for this new illicit purpose. It was well decorated but not well maintained with numerous cracks visable in its dirty yellow-brown stucco walls. Music was playing in the background from an ensemble of viols, lutes, and a viola da gamba. Men and women strolled about in their best dress. Some wore fine masks to hide their identities.

Heyn was noticably uncomfortable in this environment and became both irritable and annoyed by the situation. Their position worsened as Luitenant Van Dorn became embroiled in an argument over cheating. Van Dorn stood a dashing figure in his clean uniform pointing accusingly towards a thin middle aged Italian. The man was well dressed in dark grey silk and rose from the table angrily throwing his cards down. The men were animatedly hurling insults but neither could understand the other - and no one bothered to translate. Insults are insults in any language. Several other well dressed “noble” gentlemen stepped up to support their embattled comrade. When it looked as if the two would draw blades, Jacobi quickly stepped in to attempt diffusing the situation while Heyn stepped forward to Van Dorn's rear showing steely resolve to the men that were supporting the Italian gambler.

In spite of the escalation and attempt to diffuse it, the angry Italian briskly slapped LuitenantVan Dorn across the left cheek. An obvious challenge had been thrown. Orfini who had just walked up to see what all the ruckus was about looked very frightened. He commented to Piet, “Is he crazy!” He rushed in to try to put a stop to what was happening, but it was no use. A challenge to duel had been thrown and accepted to take place the following day behind the old churchyard cemetary on the island of San Michele. Orfini implored the Italian, telling them that these were special guests of the Doge.

It did not matter. The old count looked nervously at Heyn as he walked away from the table. “I hope Van Dorn is an expert with a sword. That man is Randolphi Manzi. Many consider him one of the greatest duelists in all Italy.” Heyn answered, “I would wager Van Dorn has a few tricks Manzi has never seen before.”

As tempers cooled, the groups of men formed up on opposite sides of the salon looking suspiciously across the space at one another. Heyn and Jacobi looked hard at the men on the other side of the great room. Heyn inquired to Count Orfini, “who is that fat man they assemble around?”, Orfini answered, that is the Spanish ambassador to the Doge.”

Heyn paused and thought a moment, “I thought you were at war with Spain.” Ofini responded, “quite so, but it is somewhat unofficial you see, with the real enemy their Austrian cousins. Nevertheless, they maintain their embassy here – mostly to spy on us I think. Manzi himself is friends with Camillo Agrippa who taught him everything he knows. He is also a desciple of Fransico de Quevedo and in the employ of the Duke of Osuna.”

Jacobi spoke up, looking in the direction of a young man that had just emergered out from behind an arch and handed the Spanish ambassador a scrap of paper, “Isn't that the younger Sonnevelt?” The man nervously looked toward the group of Dutchmen, dropped his glance and quickly dissapeared again behind the arch.

“By God it is!”, Orfini responded.

“This stinks of three day old red mullet”, Heyn added. “We must be on our guard.”

A little time passed and the group of Spanish and Italians dissapeared around the arch behind the Spanish ambassador, no doubt leaving the cassino by some back entrance. The Spanish ambassador smiled and nodded at Orfini, who smiled and nodded back quietly uttering an unintelligible insult back at him behind closed teeth. Orfini turned to Heyn, “We should tarry here a while and allow me to collect additional allies for our journey home.” Heyn answered, “No your excellency, That gives our friends more time to prepare and lay their ambush for us. We must leave now.”

Luckily as the group prepared to leave, three familiar English officers who had just lost a months pay between them at dice, joined the band bringing their numbers to nine. As the group assembled upon the front steps of the Regetto, Heyn addressed his party, “I believe that before we reach the safety of the good Count's residence, we will be fallen upon by villainy. I can feel it in my bones – and I always trust my bones. The Italians and Spaniards are known for their abilities with a blade and I feel that we must ready any advantage we may enjoy to counter this.”

The captain smiled. He had worn his large bulky orange-crimson great coat the whole evening. His officers just assumed that he was feeling a chill. Heyn unbuttoned the coat and pulled back its lapels revealing his waistcoat. Draped around the captain's neck was a thick sash holding a brace of six large wheellock dags. Heyn's men smiled and Van Dorn pulled back his own coat revealing two dags. Mr. Maddocks, their Welsh navigator sported four small pistols. Between the whole party they had nineteen dags in all. Heyn gave one of his pistols to Jacobi and offered another to the Count. Orfini refused stating, “I consider myself as good a swordsman as any here in spite of my age Captain.”

As the group alertly made their way north from the fields of Lida into the blocks of aging three to four story houses and churches all was quiet. Heyn had formed his men into two rows. Luitenant Van Dorn, Jan Evertson, and the Englishmen led the party in the first row, and Captain Heyn, Count Orfini, Jacobi, and Mr. Maddocks made up the second. The experienced band finally crossed the south bridge from Lida to Venice proper. Just as they reached the north side, they were beset upon by a dozen sword and knife wielding men emerging from the shadows. There was no path of escape save jumping over the bridge into the water below. The moon was nearly full and the light revealed the features of the attackers. Their was no doubt about their identies, it was Manzi and his gentlemen killers.

Piet cried out, “Aanval Heren!” Heyn's Luitenants and the Englishmen bravely engaged in a counter attack with Heyn, Jacobi and Orfini behind. Manzi went straight at Van Dorn and the two were engaged in a fiersom fight with rapiers tapping, ringing and scraping. Manzi was pressing the Dutchman hard and Van Dorn was retreating back into his own group. Heyn knowing Manzi's reputation, aimed straight at him. The large dag barked and kicked upwards filling the air with smoke. Other dags went off breaking the night's silence filling the confined street with thick grey smoke. Maddocks was able to get one shot off before he was decisively engaged in a fight for his life. Heyn quickly aimed and fired each pistol until they were all empty and then drew his long shell handled sword and jumped into the fray. The sounds of men's bootsteps, wounded cries of agony and scraping blades filled the night.

As quickly as the encounter had begun the sounds of bootsteps running northward in retreat could be heard. As the smoke cleared, the moaning of the fallen drew the attention of those that were left standing. Heyn's party had handily beat off the ambush and it was clear the wheellock dags had been the decisive factor that brought the scales down on their side. Laying in the road was Mr. Maddocks, run through, and two of the Englishmen wounded almost as bad. Evertson stood, but his coat was covered in blood and he grasped his left shoulder with his right hand grimacing in pain. Orfini was bleeding from his hand but was smiling wide. His blade was covered in blood and he had shown himself an able swordsman to the amazement of those around him. Five of their attackers lay bleeding upon the stone street in front of them. Spatters of blood could be seen glowing in the moonlight northward telling of the wounded status of those that had run from the fight.

Lamps and candles lit up the windows of the houses on either side of them. Citizens emerged out onto the street to see what was amiss. Orfini yelled out, “Auito qui, per favore!” Local men helped the party move the wounded back to Orfini's residence. Their attackers were left in the street to be helped by those that would help them. Four of the five lay dead, two killed by Heyn's dags, another run through by an Englishman and the last dispatched by the Count.

Later that night Maddocks died of his wounds. Mr. O'Shiel who had tried to save him stood vigil the whole night in old Gaelic tradition. The following day the wounded continued to be administered to. Mr. O'Shiel addressed Heyn and Orfini, “Maddocks was a papist as am I Sir. Can we arrange a mass and burial for him?” Orfini answered, “I will see to it. We shall bring him with us to San Michele.”

Heyn spoke, “Do you think the duel will still happen. I would stake my reputation that I shot Manzi through the chest or at the very least winged him.”

Orfini responded, “Nonetheless, Van Dorn is bound by honor to show up.”

“Quite right”, Heyn agreed, and Van Dorn nodded in acknowledgement.

At about ten o'clock, those able, made their way in Orfini's gondolas to the monastic island of San Michele. The place had been chosen because of its out of the way vicinity and knowledge no one would interfere with what was intended to take place. An old monastery had stood there for centuries surrounded by green fields and trees. An old and growing cemetery surrounded the bassilica. Orfini spoke with the Abott and arrangements for Maddocks were agreed to.

Before the mass could be conducted, the party moved to a green meadow behind the cemetery at the appointed hour of noon. Manzi's combined Italian-Spanish band of gentlemen killers showed up on time. They all appeared angry and several sported fresh blood soaked wrappings. Manzi himself wore a thick bandaged wrapping around the shoulder of his sword arm. Heyn smiled at the sight and commented, “by my reckoning this makes them even.”

The two men wearing only their silk shirts and breeches took their places across from one another swinging their blades in the air in preparation. The men touched the tips of their swords together and began a conservative bout of small movements of sensing tippy cuts and parries. The swords rang quitely in the early afternoon air. They disengaged for a moment looking one another in the eye. All was quiet but the sounds of the birds in the trees. Suddenly the sounds of the monks singing mass could be heard coming from the bassilica beyond. Manzi thrust forward with a more determined attack which Van Dorn handily countered and reversed causing him to fall back several paces before the men disengaged again. Manzi turned his back on Van Dorn, cursing to himself and swinging his arm and sword in circular motions as he walked around in a wide circle before reengaging the awaiting Luitenant Van Dorn again.

This time the attack was amazingly vicious with combinations of sensational engaging thrusts and slashes. It was all Van Dorn could do to counter the assault, yet he did, retreating back five paces and then standing his ground throwing back an engagement causing Manzi to retreat a couple steps before he disengaged again. As Manzi started to turn his back again, Van Dorn was not goin to allow him his breath and launched his own assault. Manzi could not counter Van Dorn as he performed a fatal disengagement disarming Manzi and throwing his rapier out of his hand. The rapier flipped twice in the air and stuck into the ground two paces to Manzi's right. Manzi put his hands up. It was obvious he was not nearly at his best. He was wounded and tired and did not posess his usual range of motion. Van Dorn dropped the point of his blade and pointed it toward Manzi's own. Manzi stepped away and pulled the blade from the ground and drew his main gauche with his left hand. Van Dorn responded by drawing his own long dagger as well.

The two men reengaged in flowing circular motions combining their rapiers and daggers in play – ringing in life saving blocks, parries, and deadly thrusts. Manzi was clearly tiring and Van Dorn was good in close. Van Dorn stepped forward giving Manzi a left uppercut across the chin with his dagger's cup hilt. Manzi fell to the ground. Van Dorn allowed him to get back up and resume his stance. This time Van Dorn attacked with close combinations again knocking Manzi to the ground with a right cross combined by a back handed blow to his face from his elbow. Manzi was down and clearly dazed from the blow. Van Dorn stepped forward and put his sword to Manzi's throat.

Van Dorn looked towards his captain and Count Orfini, “I cannot continue this fight. There is no honor in it. He is clearly already been beaten by my own captain's hand.”

Manzi looked upwards at Van Dorn and calmly spoke, “Misericordia il mio amico.”

Van Dorn withdrew his blade from the man's throat and walked away. Manzi's companions helped him up and the two parties withdrew from one another. Manzi saluted Van Dorn as he walked away. Heyn patted Van Dorn on the shoulder, “Well done Karl!” Heyn's men all retired to the bassilica of San Michele to pay their final respects to their fallen comrade. Heyn spoke to his officers at the service. He commented that he had never had a better navigator. He wagered that he would have been wrecked and perished long ago in the treacherous waters of Indonesia if it hadn't been for Maddocks. After the service, the men returned to Orfini's home where Heyn checked upon Evertson and the English officers. Heyn was glad Van Dorn had won, but his anger continued to kindle as he thought more and more upon the loss of Maddocks.

Heyn discussed the occurrences of the last couple days with Orfini and Jacobi trying to make sense of it all. He was especially troubled by the younger Sonnevelt passing messages to the Spanish ambassador. “I think gentlemen that providence allowed the argument between Manzi and Van Dorn to occur and that its action allowed us to be ready for what happened after. I am certain that the attack was previously engineered and would have happened anyway - even if the argument had never occurred at all.”

Heyn's anger continued to grow and his suspicions festered. Count Orfini sensing the Captain's worsening mood suggested hunting the following day. Captain Heyn refused, “I appreciate the offer your excellency and would do almost anything to get away from crowds and out of the city. However, there are too many questions that need to be answered. Also I feel a slight sense of guilt and obligation to my ships and men. It would be impossible for me to fully enjoy hunting while my crews are aboard ship.”

The following day, Heyn insisted on going to check up on his ships and men. Count Orfini went with him. The ships were moored closely together in an out-lying semi-circular dock, tethered there with almost as many English ships. Many Englishmen had come aboard to trade with the Dutch sailors and socialize. All manner of local women were about as well. None of this was out of place, but Captain Heyn realized that the many Englishmen aboard were playing dice on the main deck. He'd observed their officers at the regetto two nights prior doing the same, and knew what was afoot.

The Englishmen were out of control. Throwing dice had been outlawed in their own country since 1380, because their King believed that it took men away from practicing their skills and trades. The law was particularly focused on soldiers and longbowmen. The English had no such establishments in their own country and seemed to believe they could get away with it while away.

Heyn shook his head. He chastized poor Van Broekel who had been left in charge and told him to move the dice games aboard the English ships or ashore. He called for his captains and officers to assemble in the great cabin. Several were unaccounted for.

He addressed his companions, “Gentlemen, we are in the business of providing service to our country and in that capacity we are sailors that move to defend what is ours and seize what our masters order us take. In short, we undertake our country's bidding upon ships of war. At the moment, we do not appear to be too formidable a force. I do not know how much longer we may have to linger here, but we must have discipline. I want these ships cut out of these close moorings and anchored further out. If the harbor master doesn't like it, then I will have words with him.”

“Our men will convey themselves to and from shore in our own ship's boats and I want a constant accounting recorded by the officer of the watch. The business of shuttling alone will keep our men busy and exercised. In addition, it improves our own readiness. We all know a sailors life is hard, and it cannot hurt morale to allow liberty as well as sailor's regular idle pastimes. However, in the spirit of maintaining good order and discipline, I want training drills to be perform several times a day – making, trimming, and shortening sail, as well as mock gun drills. I can assure you that we will have orders soon enough. Thank you gentlemen.”

Heyn turned to Orfini, “Now Sir, it is imperative that we go and see Sonnevelt at once. I think he may provide the key to all our recent misfortunes. Don't you find it odd that the Doge has not granted audience to us yet when we were sent by the Prince himself to honor a treaty? Don't you find it odd that he would not want to accept the gift of such a fine ship as the Sint Mark? Don't you find it odd that he would not want to discuss our encounter with the Uskoks and the capture of Lenkovic? What has been done with Lenkovic? I need answers and cannot believe that the Doge would be so oblivious of all that has transpired in the past weeks. I am beginning to believe that the Doge does not even know that we are here at all. God help Sonnevelt if he is in any way responsible for any of this.”

Stay tuned for Part 13. “Betrayal” soon.....MK

And now Part 13.

Heyn could see the Count looked troubled. He did not meet Heyn's gaze and seemed to stare beyond him years into the past. His expression belied feelings of frustration, anger, and fear. There was a long pause while he thoughtfully chose his words. Count Orfini finally broke the silence. “My friend, I wonder if it would not be better if I questioned Van Sonnevelt myself. I would also like to speak with some of my friends on the Ten before this meeting. If Van Sonnevelt is involved in some kind of intrigue or betrayal and is in league with the Spaniards, we must proceed very cautiously.

Count Orfini paused. His expression was deathly sombre and stone cold serious – not the usual positive and jovial countenance those around him had come to be familiar with. He continued, “Pieter, if your countymen are involved in a Spanish plot, it will be very hard for the Doge to ever trust a Dutchman again. Venice is only just recovering from the Spanish intrigues of the past few years. The Spanish attempted the forcible siezure of Venice from the inside. The Spanish ambassador bribed the mercenary condottiere of the Doge's army, while at the same time secretly debarking several companies of French mercenaries from Spanish ships that had arrived from Naples.

This happened while I've been away in your country, so only a short time ago. The Bedmar plot as they call it was thwarted just in time by loyal anti-papist Venitians. The vile serpente responsible for this villainy - ambassador Alfonso de la Cueva-Benavides the Marquis of Bedmar, fled for his life to Flanders – where I might add, he was awarded the cardinal's red hat by the Pope and has been plotting all kinds of trouble for your own countrymen since – as well as assigning his relatives and friends to important positions in the Habsburg government. One of my duties while ambassador to your land was spying on him.

His prodigies - the current ambassador Zuniga and his high born killer Manzi, with many of their followers, remained behind, braving the purges that followed the plot. How they saved themselves when hundreds of others were garotted and hanged – including many innocent men, can only be explained by trickery, bribes, and blackmail. Sadly, these clear seditionists are still in our midst, and you yourself have met them and drawn their own blood. Our Doge, Francesco Contarini, is Venice's third ruler in only three years, and the last two before him came to their ends under strange and mostly unexplainable circumstances. Many still suspect foul play by the Spanish in their deaths. Spain lost its war with us three years ago when their fleet was defeated in the Adriatic. They signed a peace with us soon after, but then attempted the Bedmar plot. Just as with Holland's current truce with Spain, agreements mean nothing to Spaniards unless they give advantage to them at the time they're drawn up. I am certain that both our countries will soon be at war with them again.”

Heyn's blood boiled as he pondered what the Count had told him, “Damnable Spaniards! They are like a plague upon the earth. It would be far better for all men who dwell in the world if Christian kings and infidel potentates alike, would unite together to put every last Dago to the sword. If Van Sonnevelt is guilty in this damned business, he will not have a chance to be extradited or go before trial...I will dispatch him myself before he can hide or flee.”

Count Orfini replied, “This is why I must go alone first to make covert inquiries. We must not let them know we suspect anything. It is also possible still that the man is blameless and a pawn himself in a dangerous game. Please leave everything to me my friend.”

Heyn responded, “Very well, your Excellency. But I cannot sit idly by doing nothing for much longer.”

Orfini left his home about midday, boarding an ornate gondola with a small retinue of protection - gliding upon the stagnant waterways to another prominent Venetian's villa within the central cities canals. Renier Zen was a “Capi”, one of Venices ruling “Ten” - the council of advisors to the Doge and ruling administrators of the city. The Ten were somewhat like a small parliament of sorts but were chosen and appointed, not elected. They along with the nobles “the Patricians”, elected the Doge, raised armies, paid expenses and levied taxes. They had been an enduring and necessary tradition since the middle ages.

Reaching their destination, the men stepped out onto the small private stone jetty, and one of Orfini's men knocked upon the decoratively carved rennaissance door of Zen's mansion. The door creaked open a few inches and a servant peered out. When he saw Orfini, he opened the door widely and bowed, “please come in your excellency. I will announce you to my master.

Zen appeared from out of a barrel vaulted hall making straight for his colleague through a large gothic archway. He was middle aged, but had a youthful appearance. He was well liked and charismatic. He was an oddity in an oligarchy made up of mostly very old men. The two men shook hands and embraced. “I am glad you finally came to see me Tomasso”, Renier exclaimed. The two men sat down to confer. They exchanged pleasantries and small-talk and informed one another about the welfare of their family members. Orfini finally got down to business, “Renier, what do you know about Van Sonnevelt and Cornaro?”

Renier looked troubled but smiled slightly, “Only that they are making a hefty percentage on contraband goods via the portuale di controllo.”

Orfini raised his eyebrows and smiled as well. “Hmmm, and you haven't complained to anyone yet Renier? You the righter of wrongs? You've had it in for Cornaro for some time haven't you? What are you waiting for?”

“I am watching them Tomasso. There is more going on here than meets the eye – I know it”, Renieri boldy announced while closing one eye and touching his right index finger to the side of his nose. He continued, “I have so many men following them that I know every meal they take in detail. Something's amiss. Cornaro has gone to see the Doge twice this week and the rumor is that the Doge has taken ill and is seeing no one. I had supper with him just last week and he was fine. Cornaro's son was not there and he and the younger Sonnevelt have taken up with Manzi and their ilk – they think they're going to become infamous duelists no doubt.”

Orfini became deathly serious, “So there's the connection. Did you hear about Manzi's duel with the Dutchman on San Michele?”

Zen answered, “Indeed I did and the attack upon your party the night before by Zuniga's thugs.”

“Can you prove Zuniga's involvement? Orfini inquired. “Before the attack we saw the younger Sonnevelt - Jurgen I think is his name – passing a scrap of paper to Zuniga. The Van Sonnevelts may be Dutch, but they have been accused by their own countymen of being papal sympathizers.”

“It all makes sense”, Renier responded. “Cornaro is leading the pro-papists to vote on reconciliation with Rome again. They are also voting on reversing the expulsion of the Jesuits and officially readmitting the order into the city proper again. For days they have been pressuring Sapi to ask for the Pope's forgiveness, but he has stubbornly refused. More and more becomes revealed - Cornaro's son has fallen in with the Spaniards and now you tell me that his little Dutch friend is passing messages from some unknown person to the Spanish ambassador.”

Orfini interupted, “Add to this, that the well known Dutch commander Piet Heyn captured a notable Uskok leader in a brave engagement on the way here – as well as – that he has brought the Doge one of the finest warships you've ever laid eyes on as a gift from their prince. BUT, according to Van Sonnevelt, the Doge has not yet been able to make the time to see him. This has been going on now for almost two weeks.”

Zen's eyebrows now rose high causing the skin upon his forehead to wrinkle up in horizontal lines. “When I was having supper with the Doge, it was all he could talk about. He asked when he could see Heyn. He was more excited than I've ever seen him. Van Sonnevelt informed the Doge that Heyn had taken ill and would bring him to his Excellency as soon as he was well!”

Orfini paused and looked down at the floor while massaging his scalp with his left hand. “Sonnevelt doesn't want Heyn to see the Doge, and I think given the recent events, he intended that the two men never meet. I think that both the Doge and Captain Heyn are in danger.”

Zen cursed, “If we act too quickly, we may never get the proof I need to reveal the whole conspiracy. However, if we don't act quickly enough we may forever regret it, and innocent men may lose their lives.”

Orfini replied, “Can you get Heyn an audience to see the Doge?”

“I think I can. I will go to the palace at once”, Zen replied.

“I will return to my home and await word from you”, Orfini responded.

“Please travel carefully my friend”, said Zen.

“And you as well”, Orfini countered. The two men again shook hands and quickly parted, going their seperate ways.

Stay tuned for Part 14. “Illumination and Tragedy” soon.....MK
 
Oh yeah, Barnacle Scraper, I am very interested in your offer. You can contact me PM or e-mail listed in my profile. I would be very interested in other places that might get more interest. THANKS! MK
 
And now Part 14. “Illumination and Tragedy”

Piet once again found himself standing in the beautiful tropical bay with which he had become so familiar in his dreams. He was walking upon its soft white sand in his bare feet. He sloshed about in the warm clean water as if a young child. The sun shone down brightly from a perfect azure blue sky. Piet smiled as he felt its rays warm his face.

He suddenly noticed distant figures ahead of him sharing the beach. The first figure was clothed in white and much closer to him. Following some distance behind was a figure so black that the light did not even highlight it's form. As he walked closer to the first figure its lines became more defined as a young female running towards him and then recognizeable as his own lovely wife Anneke.

The couple smiled at one another as the distance finally narrowed to a paces length. The two embraced but as Piet attempted to hold his beloved close, she pushed him back and pleaded with him to listen to her. Her smile was replaced by seriousness as he stirred from his exuberance to listen. “Piet, you must awake and flee! You are in grave danger my love. You must awake and get to your ship now!”

Piet was befuddled by his wife's exhortation. He looked over her shoulder at the black figure that was steadily approaching and now much closer than when he first saw it. “Who is following you?”, he asked Anneke.

Anneke answered, “You don't remember him Pieter? He says he knows you quite well and has been after you for some time. He told me that he is here to take several people away with him - People that you know very well - and that he will take you too if he can get you. You must not allow him to Pieter!”

The malevolent figure's lines were now hardening and becoming clearly pronounced. The dark figure was completely wrapped from head to toe in a hooded cloak that concealed it's actual form beneath. The darkness within the hood's recess was as black as midnight from the earth's deepest places. The figure held a long, wickedly curved scythe in one gnarled boney hand and gripped the thin waist of a large hourglass in the other. The figure did not seem to tread over the shallow shoreline, looking more as if it were slowly and unhurriedly floating unstopably towards them.

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Piet spoke, Yes I know him only too well my dear.”

“Awake Pieter! You must awake!”

Pieter awoke. He took a moment to determine where he was. It was still dark and a candle dimly flickered, casting odd shadows of the ornately carved furniture upon the walls. He sat up in his bed. He was sharing the room with a couple of his lieutenants. “Karl!” Pieter addressed.

Van Dorn who was a light sleeper anyway stirred and abrubtly snorted, “aaah...Sir? Aye Sir?”

Piet continued, “Mr. Van Dorn, help me wake the others. We must assemble our party in the kitchen.”

“Aye Sir”, Van Dorn acknowledged.

In less than ten minutes time, Heyn's party, to include the still recovering wounded, was assembled upon the ground floor of Orfini's villa in front of an immense open brick oven in the old kitchen. They were all confused and a little misoriented, but always trusted and obeyed their commander's orders.

“Gentlemen, I trust you slept well. As you all know I always trust my bones. My bones tell me that we are in danger and must get to the ship at once”, Captain Heyn explained.

Heyn walked to the back door of the villa and pulled up its thick wooden bracing bar. He pulled opened the large aging door with a protesting creak and the men followed him out onto the stone walk without question. Rather than take transport by gondolas, the men walked north upon the stone walks towards the Realto bridge where they would find a large conveyance to the docks and beyond.

At nearly the same time Count Orfini and his party approaced his own front door. Orfini had been out most of the night confering with other prominent Venetians. Three of the Council of Ten now knew of the current situation.

As the Count and his men stepped forward out of the gondola upon the stone jetty into the shadows of morning's first light, their lanterns shown into the open front threshold of his home. The door was unexplainably ajar. Orfini's men approaced the opening with caution pulling out daggers and blades to defend themselves if the need arose.

As they entered the lantern light revealed the shape of Orfini's old doorman Aldo, dead upon the floor in a puddle of his own blood, eyes still open blankly staring upwards into nothingness. Orfini was livid. “MURDER!”, he yelled out loudly. He turned to one of his men, “Go and fetch the Conestabile at once!”

Before the man could exit, feminine screams echoed throughout the spacious main hall from levels above. Orfini's party dashed up the large staircase towards the disturbing sounds. Confusion reigned as servants and Orfini's daughters ran through the dark corridors of the great villa for their lives making for the stairs and freedom. Cries of agony and the last breaths of death came from those unfortunate enough to run headlong into the dozen dark assassins that faced them.

Orfini led his men into one of the large chambers where Heyn's officers had slept just minutes before. They were met with a cloud of floating feathers from the shredded bedding the assassins had just destroyed and left behind. The killers realizing their quarry had already fled, separated and made their way out of the place by any exit possible to include the windows. Orfini's party caught several of the assailants attempting to escape via the upper hall and a dark savage duel of close in-fighting commenced. The assassins fought with a strange conservative style not attempting decisive fatal slashes or thrusts. After each parry they would attempt small slicing cuts to arms and legs. Orfini had experienced this style before and quickly pulled the cloak from round his shoulders into his left hand to use as a guard. “Do not let them cut you men! Their blades are poisoned! Giuseppi, bring up the muskatoon!” He commanded.

The Count's men immediately parted to make an opening for the large wheellock scatter gun. Orfini yelled out loudly in rage and anguish as the lanterns from his men bringing up the rear suddenly bathed the corridor in light. The nobleman realized they fought standing above the corpse of one of his innocent daughters. The young beauty laid motionless with her eyes wide open. No large wounds could be seen. She was a clear victim of the killer's deadly poison blades.

Meanwhile as the sun rose, Heyn's men emerged onto the open court adjacent the Realto bridge.
Captain Heyn approached a group of gondoliers huddling together in the usual early morning routine preparing for the days work. As Captain Heyn began to arrange for passage to the Neptunus, a Conestabilere with roughly two dozen armored guards stepped out from the surrounding narrow streets and surrounded Captain Heyn's group. Dirck Van Sonnevelt stepped out of the shadows and nodded to the Conestabilere, “These are the men Captain. Arrest them all and throw them in the Piombi.”

Heyn now smouldering in anger, rebuked Sonnevelt in Dutch, “Villain! You will pay for your deception!” Heyn moved towards the consul, but before he could draw his blade was struck in the back of the head with a dag's handle, collapsing unconscious upon the smooth flagstone street.

******************************

Heyn floated upon his back looking upwards at a dark purple starry sky. He was surrounded by calm cool water which was lit up in a gently moving brilliance reflecting the purple tapestry of countless bright stars above. Heyn heard his father speaking to him from a time long past, “Remember my son, with God's help alone, YOU are the master of your own destiny...destiny...destiny.” Then he heard the rising echo of laughter from his hated nemesis Bienavides y Bazan, “You must learn your place in the world Costurrera. It is clear that God has ordained it so – and that you will always be a slave of Spain. You must accept this esclavo.” Suddenly Franz Hecht's raspy voice joined the chorus, “It's true my family are all buried there, but so are over eightly thousand others killed in that damnable Dago siege. I must move on...on...on.” He heard Jacobi's familiar preaching, “At our faith's core center, there are just two simple Christian rules really – love one another and treat your neighbor as you would wish to be treated - and Captain please always remember when people's lives are at issue, mercy is of God and killing of the Devil.” Old Admiral Van Noort then took over, “Ever been to Venice Heyn? Strange self worshipping people those. You will most certainly learn patience.” Anneke's voice then overshadowed the others, “You must not allow him to take you Pieter. Come home to me Pieter – come home.” The Prince then spoke, “I would wager that if they put you in charge Heyn, that those pesky Uskoks would be brought to heel in a few months time.” Bosko Lenkovic was next, “If you behead us I promise you will lose ten for every man killed...killed...killed.”

“Captain Heyn, are you well Sir? Captain Heyn? Can you understand me Sir?” The blurred vision of Piet's eyes slowly cleared and he could gradually make out a familiar face in front of him. He was laying on his back with a wooden block under his head. Bosko Lenkovic was leaning over him, his hands holding a damp cool cloth over the top of his head. Captain Heyn sat up on the stone floor of what was clearly a prison cell.

“Lenkovic? Where are we?” Heyn enquired.

“We are in the Doge's Piombi, also known as The Leads, because of the roof”, Lenkovic answered pointing up at the ceiling which was covered with oxidized thick green colored lead sheets.

“I wondered what had become of you man. Where are my officers?” Heyn asked.

Lenkovic answered,”They are in the cell across. You've been out for several hours and your men continue to call across the hall to enquire as to how you are.”

“Any news? Have you tried to get out of here? Is there any chance of escape or release?” Heyn further enquired.

Bosko responded, “I have had visitors. The Doge is very sick – they say near death. The Capi readmitted the Jesuits into the city and several have come to visit me. They tell me that my release has already been arranged. I am to board a ship bound for Istria in the morning as part of a prisoner exchange. The ship will be stopping at Trieste on the way where the prisoner exchange is to take place. I was surprised, but the Venetians are clearly fragmented. The centrists want me dead. The pro-papists and patricians want me to be let go even though they are not necessarily pro-Habsburg. I even heard the Doge wanted to talk with me but I do not know what is happening now. I thought about attempting to break out and try my best to find him.”

“And just how do you propose doing that?”, Heyn glibly asked.

“With this.” Bosko whispered, producing a small stiletto dagger.

“How did you manage to sneak that in?” Heyn said curiously.

“The Jesuits gave it to me. As part of the conditions for leaving on the ship to Trieste, I am supposed to kill you”, Lenkovic commented with a smile.

“Surely you would have already killed me while I was knocked out if you meant to do me harm, so why didn't you?” Heyn pronounced.

“I am not an assassin or a murderer Captain. You spared my life and the lives of my men when I attacked you. I would not have done the same if our positions were reversed. I owe you a debt and will make good on it. If you help me find my comrades we could all make our way out together”, said Bosko.

Heyn answered, “I doubt you will be able to pick the lock with that stilletto. Are there any other options?”

The two men looked around the room. There were no windows except the small barred opening in the door. They were able to speak back and forth through it across the corridor between cells to Heyn's officers, who were relieved to see their commander standing and articulate. There were also two openings in the floor opposite one another in the outer corners of the room. One was round and obviously a toilet hole. The other was square and had a pulley mounted in the ceiling above it as if a rope had at one time been used to bring things up into the chamber. The opening was far too small to get a man through. It looked like some sort of dumbwaiter, but Bosko said no food had been brought up that way.

Bosko began to play with the door lock while Piet paced the cell trying to think of a way out. The two men conversed to pass the time finding that they actually had much in common. They found that they had a natural admiration and respect for one another.

Gradually, light scuffling noises could be heard coming from the small square hole and getting louder. Piet observed the hole intently when in a few moments a dirty young boy of eight or nine years emerged from it. The boy stood up brushing the dust off of himself. Bosko turned around from the door in surprise and the boy began to speak in Italian. Piet was shocked by the unmistakeble resemblance the boy had to Count Orfini. The boy looked as if he could be Orfini himself in childhood.

Bosko listened intently to the boy and then translated into Spanish for Heyn, “He says he is Adolfo - Matilda's son – Matilda is Orfini's cook.....he says that there is a plan to get us out.” The boy pulled a large bronzen key from a thick leather cord around his neck and held it out for Captain Heyn to take. Captain Heyn took the key and the boy continued to jabber in Italian. Bosko translated again, “He says that this key is Capi Zen's master key and will open every door in the palace. He says his mother and one of the Count's daughters are coming with food baskets so that the jailer will let them in. When they open the door they will drop bags from inside their skirts containing loaded dags and knives. We must over-power the jailers while the door is open and use the key to open the other cells. Once we have made our way out of the palace, there is a large gondola below that will take everyone out to a fast-galley bound for Trieste.” Bosko smiled wide, “See how God works Captain? He will get me to Trieste even when I don't kill you. He must like you...and me.” Bosko laughed to himself.

Soon the sounds of a heavy lock unlatching - and a large door opening, could be heard echoing down the corridor. A moment later two young women were seen with baskets of bread. One of the jailers opened the cell and the women rushed in giving Piet and Bosko as much space possible to act. Piet grabbed the first jailer and pulled him into the cell. As the second jailer attempted to resecure the door, Bosko grasped its edge and with all of his strength bashed it back outwards into the man's head knocking him to the floor of the corridor. Piet had knocked the first jailer unconscious and threw the key to Bosko who reopened the door, ran into the corridor, kicked the face of the second jailer who was beginning to stand again, and opened the cell door to Heyn's officers. He then ran down the hall to find his own men.

Heyn threw one of the bags the women had dropped into the officer's cell and soon most of the men were armed. As they made their way down the corridor, the door into the prison was still ajar. They rushed through and over the suspended enclosed stone bridge that joins The Leads with the Doge's palace. At the other end of the bridge was another guard room with two more guards sitting bored playing dice at a table. Above them hung the key rings with all of the keys to open the individual cells. The men looked up in surprise and Heyn's men quickly overpowered them. They were happy to find all of their own personal weapons and equipment laying piled up in a corner of the room. Now fully rearmed they made their way down another unguarded corridor and found their way to the great stairs that descended three stories downwards. At the bottom of the stairs were several guards, but they were engaged in coversation with Count Orfini and Capi Renier Zen. The two parties met and Lenkovic's men soon joined them on the street.

Orfini motioned to the whole group, waving and pointing to a very large gondola at the stone dock joined to the palace, “This way my friends! Quickly now!

Before they could get to the boat, young Jurgen Van Sonnevelt ran out of the arcade from Saint Mark's square with Randolphi Manzi and his gentlemen killers closely behind. Jurgen pointed at them and yelled out in Italian, “There see! I told you – they have escaped!” Manzi smiled and walked slowly towards the group pulling out his rapier. His followers did the same. The Conestabile walked up behind with another dozen armed men.

Renier Zen spoke, “Stand down your men! This is my affair and these men are under my protection.”

Manzi spoke, “I'm afraid I can't do that Signore.”

Zen engaged the Constabile, “Captain, I am a Capi, and I order the arrest of Randolphi Manzi and his men.”

The Constabile looked sheepishly back and forth between Manzi and Zen and replied, “I am afraid that I am not actually in your employ Signore.” With that he pulled out his sword and ordered his partisan-pike armed men forward.

Manzi smiled wide and the two groups engaged. It was utter chaos. The Dutchmen all immediately discharged their dags and then pulled out their swords. Tragically as Matilda tried to escape the carnage she fell mortally wounded. Adolpho ran to her crying, “Mama, mama!” Orfini yelled out in anguish as he saw her fall, but was blocked by the fighting around him from reaching her.

Heyn took on several of the partisan armed men. He was all too familiar with avoiding their obvious thrusts, and moving quickly inside the long weapons to run his opponents through.
The Uskoks ran up to assist Captain Heyn against the mercenary guards and fought as men possessed - quickly throwing them back in disarray. Heyn was now free to engage the corrupt Conestabile that had incarcerated him. The mercenary captain was clearly afraid as Heyn's enraged figure attacked. The man had little talent with a sword and Heyn's rage dissatisfied with simply killing him fast began to cut him everytime he made a fence mistake. Soon the man had gaping gashes covering his torso and arms. Heyn finally administered the coup de grace and skillfully ran the man through his groin. The man fell gasping in pain - bleeding to death upon the flagstone.

Van Dorn was beaten back by several men while trying to reach Manzi and forced to engage them - fighting for his life. Orfini and Manzi found each other and began a stunning array of expert fence combinations. Manzi was impressed with the old Count and spoke, “Your skill with a blade is not exagerated your excellency.”

“I'm so glad that you think so”, Orfini sarcastically replied.

As their blades sought any weakness and continued to lightly ring in deadly combat, Manzi continued, “You have truly been a thorn in all of this. If you could have just left it all alone, you would not have to die today.”

Orfini answered, “I Sir, am an honorable man who does not seek to murder my brothers or young innocent women. I will be judged by God as such and you as well for your wicked deeds.”

Manzi countered, “But not today I think. I guess I will not see you in Hell then, but I'm afraid you are the only one of us that will be judged today.” With that comment Manzi performed a strange lunging side step to the right while wraping the guard of his rapier in a clockwise motion around Count Orfini's sword disarming him in a fatal disengagement. The Count's sword flew into the air and over the stone pier into the water while Manzi thrust his long main-gauche deep into Orfini's belly. Orfini gasped and fell to the ground as Manzi pulled out his blade and wiped the blood on Orfini's fine decorative coat.

As Van Dorn finally overcame his last attacker, his blade was snapped in two. As he lowered the broken blade and thrust deep into one of Manzi's henchmen, he witnessed Orfini fall and Manzi kneeling over him. The experienced Dutch Lieutenant was filled with rage as he ran for Manzi. With the broken sword in his right hand and his wheellock dag grasped by its barrel in his left, he quickly reversed them as he ran towards the duelist. He did not wait for Manzi to rise and face him. He immediately bashed his enemy in the side of the head with the dag's clublike handle. Manzi fell disoriented. Van Dorn gutterally screamed out, “I should have killed you the first time”. The Dutchman then battered Manzi's head in relentlessly with the dag's club handle - over and over again until a bloody puddle spread below his head. He then took his broken sword and fatally thrust it through the Italian duelist's neck. He paused for a moment to catch his breath and picked up Manzi's rapier claiming it for himself.

In a few violent moments bodies and pools of blood and spatters covered the street next to the Doge's palace. Heyn's and Lenkovic's men had overcome their assailants. Jacobi and Zen who had little skill in combat had stayed out of the fight behind a column of the arcade. With the fight over they moved to ascertain Orfini's condition. Heyn leaned over Count Orfini and lifted his head. The count was breathing hard and put his bloody hand onto Heyn's wrist in final friendship, “I am dead Pieter. I have something to ask of you. The boy Adolpho...he is my bastard by my true love Matilda. With his real mother now dead, my own wife would raise him as a servant and treat him with contempt his whole life. Piet, please take the boy with you.”

Piet answered, “Of course I will my friend.”

Orfini smiled, “You are a good man Piet Heyn. I bid you farewell.” The count gasped as his last dying breath floated out of his body and his head turned slowly sidewards unsupported by life. Orfini's remaining daughter began to weep uncontrollably over the body of her father.

Renier Zen knelt over Orfini and put his hand upon his chest, “You will not have died in vain I promise you. I will watch over your family Tommasso. Rest well my friend.” He turned to his sobbing daughter and put his hand on her shoulder in consolation. He pulled a small pouch of gold coins from his vest and put it in her hand, You must be strong now Francesca. You must see to your father and to Matilda. You must go tell your mother what has happened. I will help you when I return.”

Zen stood with a grimly serious aire, “Gentlemen you are still in much danger. You must board the gondola and get out of the city. The jaded party quickly moved into the large gondola and the crying boy was pulled away from his dead mother to join them.

As the gondola made its way out to the fast-galley, Van Dorn approached Captain Heyn, “Sir couldn't we just as easily commandeer this boat to our own ships and transport Lenkovic under the safety of our own arms?

Heyn answered, “Yes we could Karl, but I'm afraid we would not learn the whole truth of this ugly matter if we did. We will be in Trieste by morning and I believe all will be made clear once we arrive.”

The large gondola bumped up against the fast-galley and everyone climbed aboard - up onto the sleek long ship. The gondola debarked and headed back to the docks and the galley made sail on a favorable wind as her oarsmen strained to achieve maximum speed. Piet had some quick fleeting flashbacks to his own youthfull experiences on similar vessels and shuddered slightly, glad to be above in the open air, but somewhat nauseous to be on a ship driven by enslaved men and consequently not on good terms with the wind. He grieved over the devastation that had befallen the Orfini family. He couldn't help thinking that some of what had happened was his fault. He stared out over the calm waters at the sun reflecting off of it's surface and thought to himself, “it will all become as clear as that reflection – tomorrow.”

Stay tuned for Part 15, Villainy revealed: a grievous journey. Aaron R. Shields a.k.a MK
 
And now Part 15. “Villainy Revealed: A Grievous Journey"

The clear crisp morning found the fast-galley closing upon Trieste. The city began to appear on the horizon seven miles distant as the wind lulled into a dead calm. The advantages of the galley were immediately obvious as the oarsmen closed the gap to the shoreline.

The fortified city of Trieste loomed ahead larger and more detailed as it came into view. Numerous towers and bastions dotted the skyline and the city's defenses were impressive. Atop the city's highest central hill was a contemporary palace surrounded by a massive stone citadel. The port itself was defended by two long fortified sea walls that embraced the central space of harbor like two great enveloping arms. Instead of hands at their ends, there were two thick low round stone towers bristling with cannon. The space between the towers was the only way in or out of the city's harbor. The heavy defensive walls, towers, gun embrasures, and the massive enclosed sea walls, turrets and chain booms had been a necessity developed in response to a turbulent and bloody past. Although situated on the eastern side of the Adriatic Sea, opposite Venice, the city was not currently a Venetian possession. Venice had taken the city several times over the centuries but had only ruled it for short times.

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Because of Trieste's prominence as a large and excellent natural harbor – and because of it's strategic location at the north-easternmost corner of the Adriatic sea, the fortified city had always been surrounded or invaded by enemies. Dalmatians under Venetian rule dominated to the south and clashed constantly with the Habsburg supported Croatian Uskoks.

Spain had taken the city in a bloody siege a century past. Spanish troops had held Trieste off and on again for years with negligible successes after multiple plagues and famines wiped out most of their occupying forces. Venetians, Spaniards, Pirates, Germans, other powerful Italian city states, as well as the Grand Turk all counted among enemies or occupiers that had sieged, taken or lived in the contested city for short times over the centuries. The old Roman city had become accustomed to fending for itself and maintained a fiercely guarded sense of independence because of it. Much like the Hansa cities to the north, Trieste had been consistently ruled by its own independent council of merchant burghers since the fall of Byzantium. The citizens of Trieste maintained linguistic, cultural, and religious ties to Italy and were extremely loyal to their prominent mercantile families. However, their ruling council paid fealty to the German Emperors in a political move two centuries past - cementing an alliance that allowed the retention of Trieste's overall political and trading independence, while providing the intermittent protection of Imperial Habsburg troops. The city proved to be a useful port for the German Empire to allow trade and project some meager naval ambitions into the Adriatic and Mediterranean.

The independent nature of the city was evident as numerous ship types and their banners became visible. Topping the scores of masts - dozens of diverse flags caught the eye with bright streaming wind driven colors. The harbor was full of ships - square rigged and lateen rigged – warships and merchantmen – oar-driven and sail-powered. Cluttered among the enclosed space were Barbary xebecs flying no colors, Black Sea Turk fast-galleys, Uskok fastboats, English armed merchentmen, Venetian Genoese, Neapolitan, Florentine, Pizan, and Sicilian galleys, naos, and galleons - as well as several aging Imperial carracks. Independent merchant vessels and ships of war - some from as far away as Poland - all rode at anchor and moored to the wide crescent shaped dock-space.

Oddly enough several Spanish warships rode at anchor close to the northwest sea wall. Heyn shook his head and pointed them out to his officers when he spied the sinister crosses of Burgundy. The Dutchmen all looked on with expressions of concern until Jan Evertson pointed in almost the opposite direction and exclaimed, “We are not alone Gentlemen, look there!” The men all looked beyond the stern of a large Italian carrack that their fast-galley was passing by, suddenly allowing a clear view of around ten well sized English and Dutch warships. These ships were riding at anchor just opposite the Spaniards across the harbor - close to the end of the south wall's enclosure.

As the shallow draft fast-galley glided the final distance into a slip located on the city's main frontage, they were dwarfed by a great obsolete Imperial carrack tied off to the stone dock to starboard. Heyn's officers looked up at the shielded gunwales far above, spying a few helmet wearing German and Austrian soldiers peering over the side back down at them. The galley's oars were shifted into the hull and sailors threw mooring lines to the dock-workers ashore.

Heyn, Lenkovic and their men stepped off of the galley onto the wide stone dock-space. No one was there to meet them but the piers were bustling with activity. Heavily armed Dutch Infantry stood in a formation to their right. Heyn looking in the opposite direction could make out the bright yellow and red uniforms of Spanish musketeers through the crowds of dockworkers and meandering civilians to the north. “Do you know where we need to go?”, Heyn asked Lenkovic.

“No. They are expecting me to arrive on a different ship that departed just this morning - not the galley Capi Zen had waiting for us last night”, Lenkovic answered.

Zen walking up and overhearing the end of the discussion asked, “What was the name of the other ship?”

Bosko responded, “The Orizzonte”.

Renier Zen acknowledged, “Ah yes, I know her – an old Pizan galleass.” He then addressed the group assembled on the wide stone pier. “Gentlemen, I know the proprietor of the tavern just across the piers there.” Zen pointed to a wide three storied dark yellow painted stucco facade in the center of the frontage buildings - running along the wide main cobble-stoned street ringing the piers. “He will lodge us while we find out where Lenkovic needs to be.”

On the way across the wide frontage street, Heyn watched the Dutch troops assembled on his right. As they passed by the forward edge of the formation, the officers became visible and a prominent captain stood in front of the group barking out instructions.

“By all that's Holy!”, Captain Heyn blurted out and moved away from his men towards the other group of Dutch officers. Heyn's officers and Lenkovic with his ten remaining Uskoks, stood confused for a moment and then followed. As Heyn approached, the other Dutchmen all began to turn their heads to watch him. Their leader still speaking forward of the formation, was about to dismiss them when he turned to see Heyn walking up. He smiled wide as Captain Heyn stepped in front of him and grasped his hand in familiarity, “Moses you old rinking son of Abraham, I'm very glad to see you.”

Moses Cohen Henriques was an odd cut figure for a captain. He was still in his twenties (young for a captain) but appeared middle aged. He was tall and thin – strong and swarthy. His profile was somewhat typical of his Jewish ancestry, with large deep dark eyes and a pronounced well shaped nose. He sported a neatly trimmed heavy black mustache and a larger than usual beard. He wore the typical dark tailored breaches and doublet of a Dutch captain in warm weather. His ornate sword hung from a thick orange silk sash that draped across his chest - suspended from his right shoulder from below a large lacey white collar. Atop his head was a large swept brimmed black hat topped with several horizontally placed peacock feathers on its left side. He looked every bit a pirate, his face framed by fine black braids and ringlets. He was both distinguished looking and mildly handsome.

Jews while both welcome and common in the United Provinces rarely took up the profession of arms. Even more rare were those that ascended the ranks to become a captain. Henriques and his brother Abraham both had a reputation of great bravery. Henriques had distinguished himself in combat over and over again against Barbary and Dunkirk pirates and privateers. The Spaniards declared the brothers pirates - that received their instructions from Satan himself - and the Inquisition offered considerable rewards for their capture. Bigotry while less prevalent in the Netherlands than in most places was still a common evil. Most 17th century countries required Jews to wear identifying dress or hats. This was not required in the United Provinces. However, most Jews in public positions attempted to hide their ancestry because of discrimination. Henriques made no such attempts to hide his identity – but neither did he overtly display it either.

No one could deny the contributions of Jews to their new homeland. Jewish ship owners often hired out their vessels to be used in the risky endeavors of defense against Spain and the many pirates that harassed the rich returning Dutch convoys. The names of these ships like Solomons Ordeel, Sampson, Jozua, Gideon, and David en Goliad bore testament to the undeniable Jewish contribution to Dutch society and its defense. Many officers and men refused to serve on a ship led by a Jewish captain, but Henriques crew were made up of men from all over Europe and beyond. A much larger than usual contingent of Jewish sailors served aboard Captain Henriques ship, the Judith. Many dark skined sailors from Indonesia and Guinea were aboard. Indeed Henriques' 2nd Lieutenant was an immense black man who would sooner box a mans ears than to allow anyone to look upon his captain with the slightest disloyalty.

Heyn had originally distrusted Jews in his youth, but had come to have a much different opinion serving with them over the years – seeing that their loyalties were generally to country first and religion second.

Captain Henriques responded to Heyn's greeting, “Captain Piet Heyn! I wondered when you would arrive. We've been expecting you for the last several days.”

“What? Why were you expecting us.”, Heyn asked confusingly.

Henriques answered, “Captain Florissen arrived directly from Holland less than a week ago with two ships and orders from Admiral Van de Noort to debark all soldiers from Trieste. The orders impart an intent to engage the pirates at Rijeka when the Doge's squadron joins us to bolster our attack. English scouts report that there is an Imperial build up just north of here and the worry is that they will trap our forces in Trieste, or force battle upon us. The combined Dutch and English contingents here do not have nearly the ships or troops necessary to to repel an Imperial attack to forcibly oust us from Trieste. So far things have been peaceful enough, but Spaniards arrived in the city yesterday - and rumor has it for the specific reason of ensuring we do not attempt seizing the city for ourselves. If the Venetians had acted more quickly, Trieste would already be in our hands now and we could have used it as a valuable base of operations against the pirates. The orders also state that all Dutch captains are to put themselves under your command when you arrive with the Doges forces. So here you are. Where are the Doge's forces?”

Heyn groaned and shook his head. “I have been kept in the dark my friend. Attempts have been made upon my life. The Dutch consul in Venice is a traitor and prevented my audience with the Doge or any orders from reaching me. It is only luck that brings me to you now. My ships along with a small English squadron are safely in Venice, but I know of no Venetian squadron belonging to the Doge. There is a clear Spanish plot in execution here and we must be on our guard. We will not attack Rijeka until we get a Venetian order to do so. What is your strength here?”

Henriques answered, “We have four warships - all over four-hundred tons - and roughly twelve hundred men here. The English have six smaller warships and about seven hundred men.”

“Listen well Moses”, Heyn responded, “I want you to get all Dutch troops aboard ship and move our fleet outside of the seawall. Have two large launches with well armed men stationed dockside to await orders. I need answers to everything that is happening. We are awaiting an old galleass, the Orizzante. It should arrive before dark. I need ten good men from you to add to my own. We need to quickly seize upon several passengers arriving from that ship. I need to question them so that we may get to the bottom of this mess. Also, please give the English squadron commander my regards and tell him of my orders for you. I do not believe that Venice requires our help any longer. The political winds of war seem to be shifting and we are caught in the middle. If the English are smart they will follow us away.”

“Consider it done Captain”, Henriques acknowledged, as the two men shook hands and then turned away from one another. Captain Henriques immediately began issuing new orders to his men.

As Heyn, Zen, Lenkovic and their men entered the “L'Ursus” Inn, Renieri Zen met and warmly greeted the old tavern's owner. The group moved upstairs while Zen made inquiries to find out exactly when the Orrizonte was due to arrive and where.

While the group lingered in a long hall bathed in natural light from its windows, the men huddled around numerous tables to change dressings and discuss the last days events. Jacobi consoled young Adolpho in Italian imparting a message of hope in a beautiful, blissful and wonderful hereafter – focusing on the message that his parents were now very happy in Heaven.

After only half an hour, Zen returned and shared what he had found out. “They must have expected that Lenkovic would be released not long after we fled. The Orizzonte was actually due to depart under cover of darkness, only a few hours after we did. She is a large old galleass, so will not likely arrive until late this afternoon or early evening. It will probably still be light. We must all go out together to meet her. Whoever was supposed to convey Lenkovic here will undoubtedly attempt to meet their contact – with news I might add - of the fight that took place in Venice and Lenkovic's departure on a different ship. As Captian Heyn has made plain, we must seize that man – or men - and question them.”

The men waited in the tavern until just after ebb-tide. The sun was still above the horizon but beginning to set as the men moved to and waited upon the south docks close to where the larger galleases anchored. The Dutch ships could be seen just beyond the sea wall hove to with sails half set. Several English ships were there with them and more were making sail and moving through the wide central passage. Passengers were being conveyed to and from shore on small oar propelled barges, pollacres and urcas. A large galleas was slowly entering the defensive stone enclosure of the inner bay and shifting her oars. She did not stop in the bay like the other large oar driven ships, but was piloted directly to the deep wharf in front of them. She was clearly the Orizzante, but for some currently unexplainable reason, she flew the Doge's colors and Lion of St. Mark. She groaned to a halt and her men threw great hawser lines down to docking crews below as she dropped her great anchors mounted aft. Slowly the great prow of the galleass, looking like a large round wooden castle tower of medieval times – bristling with cannon - lowered two wide drawbridges down onto the stone pier.

As the drawbridges dropped with loud wood and metallic “thunks” onto the stone wharf, the echoing hoof beats of numerous horses could be heard through the streets. Soon a seemingly endless contingent of rag-tag cavalry and infantry soldiers emerged, escorting a heavy open wagon within their formation, approaching from the south gate.

Adding to the confusion, two large, finely appointed coaches – one open and one enclosed - approached from the opposite direction upon the frontage street.

Lenkovic smiled and excitedly uttered something unintelligible in his native tongue. The soldiers marching into the piazza from the south were obviously Uskoks and their wagon contained several bound, somewhat disheveled and dirty, but well dressed Venetian noblemen.

Several Jesuit priests and local noblemen exited the coaches that had come to a stop in front of the galleass. There were now several small contingents of soldiers assembled on the wide frontage street. Dozens of Uskok cavalrymen and a several hundred infantry made up the majority, but behind them was a disciplined troop of armored Austrian cavalry trotting into the piazza led by a nobleman wearing a finely decorated suit of Milanese plate armor.

A company of Spanish wheellock musketeers approached from the north and awaited in line at the ready. Stuck in between the moving masses of activity was Heyn's small group of Dutchmen standing and watching with interest on the waterfront's edge.

An entourage of finely dressed Venetian noblemen, a Roman Cardinal and several Jesuits escorted by armed mercenaries walked down the drawbridge ramp of the galleass stepping onto the stone pier. Among them was Giovanni Cornaro, the Spanish ambassador Huzinga, and the Dutch consul Van Sonnevelt.

Piet Heyn and his men stepped forward to meet them.

When Huzinga saw Lenkovic, he laughed and commented, “There you see your excellency – nothing to worry about. Here is Lenkovic waiting for us safe and sound.”

Then Van Sonnevelt glancing at Heyn commented, “However he does not seem to have carried out his instructions.”

Heyn pointed at Van Sonnevelt accusatively and in a loud oration, “I must insist that you surrender the traitor Van Sonnevelt to me at once.”

Cornaro responded, “Why Captain Heyn, on what grounds do you accuse him?

Heyn answered, “This man has purposely withheld orders received from our homeland intended for myself and my command. In addition he has deliberately put Dutch citizens directly in harms way. I suspect that he is in the employ of the Spanish government and until it can be proven otherwise, I demand his arrest in the name of the Dutch Republic and Stadholder Prince Maurice.”

Van Sonnevelt laughed wryly and turned to face Cornaro, “You see Excellency, he is a mad man.” Sonnevelt then faced Heyn, “No Captain Heyn, it is you that will be put under immediate arrest for the murder of numerous prominent Venetians, to include the Conestabile of Venice and the late Count Tommasso Orfini.”

Renieri Zen exploded, “This is an outrage! There are witnesses of what actually occurred. Heyn is blameless. Orfini told several of the Capi everything that has occurred. I was there when Orfini died, and it was not by Heyn's hand.”

Cornaro responded, “If he is so innocent, then what of his unlawful escape from the Piombi without parole and his deliberate interference of the prisoner exchange - and the peace accords with the Uskoks and the Imperial Army of Istria that has brought us all here? He has abducted Bosko Lenkovic when he had no business or authority to do so in this affair.”

Zen answered, “You seem to forget that it was Heyn that captured Lenkovic in the first place. In addition it was Orfini and myself that were responsible for the galley that brought us here. Lenkovic simply came along.”

“Enough!”, Cornaro cried out. “Nothing you say can be relied upon as truthful Zen. You are a known liar and libertine rake. I hereby demand your arrest as well and recommend to the Capi that you be stripped of your titles.”

Renieri Zen countered, “I demand that myself and Captain Heyn be taken before the Doge immediately so that he can hear the whole truth of all the events leading up to the present debacle and decide upon this matter himself.”

Cornaro laughed long and smiled at the Spanish ambassador Huzinga who smiled back. “Gentlemen, then look no further.”

“What do you mean?”, Zen enquired.

Van Sonnevelt answered, “Tragically, Doge Contarini has been dead these two days past. Six of the Capi of Ten were summoned and assembled hastily in an emergency session yesterday to elect our new Doge to office. We now simply await confirmation from the Patricians. So you see Gentlemen, technically you already stand before his Excellency the new Doge of Venice, Giovanni Cornaro.”

“This is impossible!”, Ranieri Zen commented.

“Guards, arrest those men!” Van Sonnevelt ordered.

The mercenary guards drew their weapons and began walking towards the Dutchmen. The Dutchmen formed into line around Heyn, cocked their wheellocks and aimed. The mercenaries stopped. Their captain looked uncertain and glanced back at the entourage. The Spanish ambassador yelled out loudly to his captain of musketeers, “Capitan Make Ready!”

The Spanish tercio captain commanded, “mosqueteros, hacer listos! Coseletes avanzar!”
Immediately, the musketeers stepped forward in unison raising their muskets into their forks and cocking back their dozens of locks simultaneously in quick purcussive steely snaps. Their defending cohort of cosetelete infantry stepped out from around their flanks without their usual pikes - dressed in half armors and babacete helmets. They drew their heavy hilted infantry swords as they advanced.

Cornaro, looked at Heyn and smiled. He stepped forward several paces, standing behind his mercenary captain. He spoke loudly so that everyone could hear, “Heyn you are hopelessly outnumbered. You should not have disembarked your men. You might have had a fighting chance if they had they stayed. Now be a good man and come back with us to Venice.”

Heyn was full of anger, but swallowed it and calmly answered, “Might I remind your honor that those men were sent here to assist Venice in its fight against Adriatic piracy. My ships and men – as well as those of the English - are here to honor our treaty with you. We came in good faith to balance power in your favor against Imperial forces, including the Habsburg Uskoks, and to deal with increasing Spanish aggression. But here now I see that you openly entreat with our enemies assembled before us.”

Cornaro responded, “I see no enemies here Captain Heyn - except yourself. Things change my friend. As soon as I can call for a council of war, it is my intent to suspend all hostilities with the Empire and its allies. It is not conducive to good relations or trade.”

“In addition, we no longer require Dutch or English assistance in a conflict that has all but ended. Van Sonnevelt will send word back to Price Maurice, thanking him for all his help over the last few years. However, we do not want to get in between our friends both Spanish and Dutch in their renewed conflict and we hereby choose to remain neutral in these matters.”

Heyn replied, “What do you mean renewed conflict?”

Van Sonnevelt answered, “You mean you haven't heard Heyn? The truce is dissolved - Spain and Holland are once again at war.”

Piet barely held back his rage. All he wanted to do was step forward and choke the life out of Dirck Van Sonnevelt, “Well you've managed to do a wonderful job keeping me completely in the dark Sonnevelt. I cannot believe that you have knowingly allowed our forces to be put into such a position of complete peril. When word reaches home of your dealings here, you will be a hunted man.”

Sonnevelt answered, “Do you really believe that Heyn? Are you as naïve as you are incompetent? I AM the word that gets home. It IS what I say it is. And I'm afraid that your version of events will never reach the Prince's ears. Guards! Continue with your arrest!”

Bosko Lenkovic quickly stepped in front of Heyn, “NO!” He pointed at the Uskok commander who spurred his horse forward. The large white stallion raised up briefly on its haunches and trotted quickly forward to Lenkovic. Bosko spoke quietly in Croatian to the man and he reared his horse around and trotted back to the Uskok officers. Before anyone could do anything, multiple orders were issued and the Uskok's forces, outnumbering all others present by the hundreds, surrounded everyone. The Uskok officers stepped up into the wagon with the Venetian prisoners and pointed loaded dags at their heads.

Then Lenkovic spoke, “You may think us just simple lapdogs of the Empire, but we will make peace when WE have been satisfied – not before! There must be further concessions before I call off my corsairs - and that Imperial captain astride his charger does not speak for me. If I wished it I could reduce this city to ashes and kill you all where you stand with the men I have here. I owe this man Piet Heyn a debt and I always pay my debts. I will not allow you to arrest him or harm any of his men.”

Cornaro answered, “Very well Lenkovic we will talk. I can assure you of our good intentions and that we will entertain any concessions you wish to levy upon us. However, concerning Piet Heyn, he is a known pirate and murderer. He must come to trial. It is very simple. If he does not surrender himself of his own free will, Dutch – Venetian relations may be put into grave jeopardy. I'm certain the Prince would not be too happy if he learned that Venice entered into an alliance with Spain simply because of a few pirates and criminals.”

Lenkovic, Heyn, and Zen huddled together and counseled in quiet murmuring. Several minutes went by and Captain Heyn turned to his men. “Captain Henriques, get out to the ships and take all our remaining men here with you. Get underway with best possible speed. Moses, it is very important that you convey KAPITEIN Van Dorn back to the rest of our ships in Venice.”

Heyn turned to Van Dorn, “Karl, you are in command of the Neptunus now. Tell Florissen that he is now the senior commander and my orders are to get the entire squadron back home as quickly as possible. We are in a state of war with the Spaniards once again, so take all precautions and seize or destroy any Dago prizes as you are able on your return journey.”

Van Dorn looked upset, “But Captain! What are YOU going to do?”

“Don't worry about me Karl. Lenkovic has things under control. Jacobi and the boy will remain here with me”, Heyn replied.

Several of the men shook hands and embraced Heyn as they made for the pier's edge and the large awaiting Dutch launches.

Lenkovic and several of his officers began talking and walking towards the coaches. Heyn turned to face the entourage in front of the great galleass and spoke in perfect Spanish, “Gentlemen, I hereby give up my commission as a Captain in the Dutch Navy and renounce all claims of citizenship. Much as my Uskok friends here I find myself a rejected citizen of the world. You yourself said it Cornaro - I am a criminal and a pirate. Prince Maurice would never support such a man as that, so I content myself to fleeing for my life in the company of thieves and robbers. But I ask you, who are the real thieves and murderers here and who shall God judge as such on that fateful day that we all know is coming? I would wager that no tithe, indulgence, or confession will wash the heavy amounts of blood off of your hands. Good luck to you all in the next life!”

Heyn laughed almost maniacally as Uskoks threw coachmen off of the large enclosed carriage belonging to the local dignitaries, and took their places. The coach's horses trotted forward a dozen meters or so and it stopped just short of the Spanish tercio. Captain Heyn, Zen, Jacobi, and the boy Adolpho scrambled on board and slammed the heavy wood door shut. Lenkovic lept up onto one of his officer's horses and before anyone truly realized what was happening, the coach was speedily making for the northern gate of Triest escorted by a dozen Uskok horsemen.

As the coach sped out of the gate and north, the cobblestone gave way to older Roman road scattered with old stones and interspersed with dirt ruts. Piet looked out of the large open window towards the sea from the high overlooking stretch of road. He could see the Dutch and English ships under full sail making their way southward into the open Adriatic. He thought for a long moment hoping they would be safe and muttered a little prayer to that effect. “God protect you my boys. God protect you.”

Stay tuned for Part 16. "Homeward Bound: The Reaper's handiwork"....soon.

Aaron R. Shields A.K.A. MK
 
And now Part 16. “Homeward Bound: The Reaper's handiwork”

As the escapees sped forward into the darkness of the foothills of northern Italy, a conversation took place in the bumping and bouncing dark confines of the plush carriage. Jacobi, who had been both confused and shocked by the plotting and intrigues of the last several days had many questions. “Pieter, where are the Uskoks taking us? Where are we going now?”

Piet answered, “We are going home Jacobi. I'm sorry to have dragged you along on a dangerous trip overland and would have much preferred to send you with the others aboard ship, but I need you to help me with the boy. I am understanding the Italian dialects better and better – indeed they are very similar to the Spanish. My German is also fairly good as much as I have served with Germans over the years, but still I have much to learn, and you are a master of languages Jacobi. I would wager that we will need that knowledge before this trip is over. If we are lucky we shall beat our own ships home.”

Renier Zen added, “We have already covered an impressive distance. Lenkovic is taking us to the village of Stanjel ahead. It is good that we have the Uskoks with us. Italian coachmen are usually unwilling to travel during the night. There is an Inn and coach stop at Stanjel. We will be safe there for the time being. I imagine we will go our separate ways from there.”

“Won't they try to follow us?”, Jacobi asked.

“Not as long as we have our Uskok escort I wager”, Heyn answered.

Zen added, “I don't think they were prepared to follow us and those Austrians were clearly elite heavy guards - not scouts suited to tracking or moving in the darkness. Besides, it would likely be just as dangerous for anyone coming after us in these parts. However, as badly as they seemed to want you dead Heyn, who knows to what lengths Van Sonnevelt will go to prevent you from talking to Prince Maurice. He may hire professionals. Remain vigilant in the days ahead my friend I pray you.”

A few miles more and the coach pulled into the little walled town of Stanjel. The dirt gave way to cobblestone as they approached the town and the horses shorn hooves clapped metallically upon the stone with dozens of noisey trotting footfalls once again. The night was very dark and only the flickering lamps atop the coach and mounted upon the outer wall of the Inn lit up the dim street. The Uskok coachmen pulled upon the reins, halting the carriage's horses to a stop just in front of the inn. There was another carriage sitting in front of the Inn and its adjacent stables - as well as a few men lingering around it in the dark. Heyn flung the heavy wooden door of their coach open and everyone exited onto the street and moved inside the inn.

As the party entered the rustic establishment they were greeted by the family that took care of the old place. Most of Lenkovic's men went to the stables and took up watch on the street. Lenkovic and two of his men, as well as Jacobi, Adolpho and Heyn sat down around a long rustic heavy old table. One of Lenkovic's men and Zen spoke to the innkeeper and his wife for some time. Zen gave the man some coins and then came back to the table to sit with the group.

“Captain Heyn, I would recommend leaving at first light. I have procured our lodging and arranged for your passage as far as Fussen on the northern side of the Alps. After that the rest of the way will be up to you. The next leg of the journey will be by coach, but once you get to the foothills, you will have to cross the mountains via the Loibl pass by means of trains of asses and pack horses”, Zen informed.

“I can't thank you enough Capi Zen”, Heyn responded.

Zen answered with a smile, “I am guessing that I may not have that title for much longer Signore. It is a distinct honor to assist you Captain. I am only sorry that I cannot do more for you and that you were the unfortunate victim of such a villainous plot. Please do not think too badly of Venetians. There are many good and honest men among us. Remember good Count Orfini as a model of our best Venetian gentry.” Zen sighed long and shook his head side to side with a look of regret. “I grieve the passing of the Count and the unfathomable misfortunes which have befallen the good Orfini family.” He paused momentarily. “I promise you that I will return to Venice and fight against Cornaro with every fiber of my being - in ways he can't even imagine. I can tell you that he will NOT have the full cooperation of the Capi during his administration. Many of the Ten are both anti-papist and anti-Habsburg. It would take either a miracle or barrels of blood to change that.”

Zen turned to Lenkovic, “Our real thanks should go to our savior here. Lenkovic you are a saint Signore. I cannot believe that you took up for us in the face of so much danger. I was certain the Spaniards would fight. I salute you for both your independence and audacity.”

Heyn smiled in agreement, “Indeed! I thought for certain there would be blood in the streets. If it had come down to a fight, I assure you that I would have killed Sonnevelt where he stood. I am indebted to you Lenkovic.”

Lenkovic responded, “No my friends, by my reckoning our accounting is even now. No one owes the other. Captain Heyn, I hope that you will tell your Prince of the bravery and honesty of the Uskoks.

Lenkovic paused and then waxed philosophically, “People who have grievances or believe they have been horribly wronged - and have no other way to obtain justice - will always band together. Among ourselves we undertake a righteous endeavor to better the plight of our people. To those that oppose us, we are simply pirates. It was refreshing to me that Spain looks upon you Dutchmen in the same way. My people will always be good Catholics, but we recognize dishonesty and injustice when we see it. Don't judge all Catholics by the measure of your dealings with Spaniards and the recent deceptions of the Venetians Heyn. Tell your Prince about the good you've seen.”

Lenkovic paused a moment, “I will entreat with the Venetian delegation when I return. Despite the desires of our Imperial supporters to end the conflict with Venice, I will myself decide if we stop fighting or not. For the Uskok the fighting never stops. We have always faced the Turk and their infidel settlers to our east, Greeks and Dalmatians to our south, and Italians to our west. I tell you this my friends.... everything moving forward is all part of God's great work. God meant for you to spring me Heyn and in turn meant for me to spring you. The Jesuits dishonor themselves by weaving webs of intrigue with murders at their ends. Their deception helped me to make the choice I did for the RIGHT reasons over the wrong – good over evil. I wonder do the Jesuits even know their ten commandments?”

Jacobi sighed and commented, “I assure you that they do know. They know THOU SHALT NOT KILL as well as all of the others. They have come to legalize everything they do in the name of God and for a greater good that they arrogantly believe they alone understand. With their holy mandate of countering the Lutheran, Anti-Baptist, and greater anti-Catholic movement of reform, they see themselves as above the law on a crusade to bring all they see as deceived by the devil, back to the true faith. They justify everything they do with small legalistic exceptions and exemptions. They were not murdering you see. YOU Lenkovic were the one that would do the actual killing and they would absolve you of it as God's righteous instrument. At least that is how they see things. Before I was expelled from the order, I became more and more disturbed by the dealings I saw every day – the twisting of God's truth by simple minded fallible men that had allowed power to completely corrupt them. I am certain that if I had been expelled here in Europe rather than in the east I would have been burned or imprisoned. I agree with you Lenkovic...my destiny too has been set forth as part of God's great plan - and I too came to where I am now by following Heyn. I hated him when I first met him, but it is as you say - he is a good man and I am proud to know him. I want to believe that in some small way I have made the good captain and his officers consider the moral choices in what they do.”

Heyn laughed, “Indeed you do my friend. I have not felt so much guilt moving in me since I was a child being scolded by my mother - listening to your regular orations.”

There was brief laughter and then a long pause. The men became sombre and serious again considering their current situation. Renier Zen broke the silence once more. “Captain Heyn I can't caution you enough about your journey overland. For a hundred years the reform movement has been mostly peasants rebelling. Since the English broke with the church and then you Dutchmen with Spain, the violence and upheaval on the continent have become much worse.”

Heyn interrupted, “You needn't worry so Capi Zen, I have lived through the worst depredations of war imaginable. Spain's armies have made my homeland an almost constant battleground since my grandfather's time.”

Zen countered, “But it has never been as bad as now Heyn. The Empire seems to be coming apart at the seams. It's no longer confined to just peasant revolts in Germany. Many powerful German princes have taken to leading the revolts and abandoning both the Emperor and the Church in the name of reform. They have been banding together for protection, and since the Bohemian revolt began at the Battle of White Mountain it is worse than ever. The Catholic League's armies have been ravaging entire regions. I would just urge you to travel with the utmost caution. There are entire counties and duchies that have been almost completely depopulated by plagues or destroying armies for decades – the abandoned ruined cities and towns are now inhabited with only wild beasts and bands of brigands and highwaymen. I myself barely returned alive the last time that I was north of the Alps. For God's sake please avoid traveling to your homeland via northern Swabia. It is one of those horrible regions of death I spoke of.”

Heyn could see that Zen was truly concerned and he assured him they would take every precaution. Zen had offered to take the boy Adolpho back with him as well, but Heyn wouldn't hear of it noting that it was Orfini's last wish that the boy go with him. The night passed uneventful. As additional coaches arrived, Heyn, Lenkovic, and Zen all said their good byes going their separate ways.

After the coach reached the foothills, Piet, Jacobi and Adolpho met a guide taking a merchant convoy over the Loibl pass. The party left the coach behind riding on pack horses and donkeys. The rugged zig-zagging switchbacks over the mountains were rough going. The convoy would stop for rest at periodic intervals on naturally occurring rock shelves. Heyn and Jacobi had seen the towering rocky and sometimes volcanic peaks of the islands of the east, but had never seen massive snow-capped mountains like these before. They were awestruck by the panoramic beauty of the Alps spread across the horizon before them. The mountains seemed to go on forever – in many ways like the oceans. Their jagged peaks and cliffs looked as if they almost pierced the brilliant cornflower skies - in a colorful contrast of divided blues, greys, and whites. Often low lying clouds obscured whole sections of mountains across from them or even the trails ahead. The views were constantly changing and each new scenic overlook seemed to outmatch the one previous.

The sweat of the pack animals and unfamiliar gait in riding them caused unique chafing, aches and pains. Often Heyn and his companions would dismount and walk for long legs of the journey to offset this. Even though it was summer, there were heavy accumulations of snow above the treeline. However, the trail was mostly clear from the nearly continuous trodding of the numerous trading convoys that passed regularly back and forth. Indeed, with some difficulty, their own convoy shared the narrow path with several others going in the opposite direction. For Pieter, he never fully appreciated being able to move the massive amounts of goods in the hold of a ship with so much more ease – than in witnessing the difficulties in transporting the same amounts by pack animals over rugged terrain.

After ten days of slow and tedious traveling the convoy finally descended into the foothills on the northern side of the southern Alps. The group had never experienced such aches and pains in their lives, and welcomed the sight of the inn and coaches at the base of the mountains. After a night of sleep in wonderful beds, they met another coach the following morning and sped west through the breathtakingly beautiful deep green valleys of Tyrolia for several more days. Each night they slept in comfortable beds in several Austrian towns including Innsbruck. As they approached the northern Alps, they again dismounted their carriage and joined another caravan of pack animals trekking over the northern branch of the mountain chains.

Another week of hard mountain traveling passed as they finally descended and approached the large walled town of Fussen below. The town wall's gates and shuttered windows were all closed. The wood covered openings all displayed colorful downturned red and white chevrons painted upon their planking. A couple of church towers and spires jutted above the red tiled roofs of the defensive hoardings topping Fussen's thick walls. As the caravan approached they were met by a troop of local horse militia. The convoy's chief guide and the militia sergeant talked with one another in German and Jacobi relayed the discussion to Heyn. “He says that Fussen is quarantined for plague and that there is a road around the west side of the city that leads to a coach stop a few leagues more up the road that is plague free. That is the first place that we will be able to board a coach once again.” Heyn nodded, “Yes thank you Jacobi. I actually understood them.”

The guides refused to go on any further and arguments broke out between some of the merchants and the guides. Many of the guides untethered the loads upon their pack animals and threw them next to the roadside. Others that were local to the north side of the mountains kept their loads intact – and a few were willing to put the extra weight of the additional dropped packs upon their animals. Unfortunately for Heyn, Jacobi and Adolpho, their horses were needed for the return trip and they were forced to go on without mounts.

The boy and two men began to walk north upon the road ringing the outer wall of Fussen. Several of the former members of the now disbanded caravan joined them. In less than twenty minutes time they approached the opposite gate of the town as it slammed shut and guards took up positions on either side. The strong smell of burning wood wafted in the air and smoke flowed out from the gates as the inner latches could be heard being made fast.

A couple of strong swarthy men pulled corpses from the area forward of the gate towards a pile of more naked dead bodies on the roadside. A fire burned next to the unclothed dead and the smoke swirled around them, surrounding them in an unearthly scene. As Heyn's group slowly approached, the men were busy working in the smoke, throwing the last of the bodies into a large heavy wagon.

The men were an odd pair. Both were tall and broad shouldered dressed in rustic hunting styled, oiled leathern breeches, coats and hats. One was old and one was young. The younger was noticeably taller than the elder. As the party came closer the gravedigger's facial features became visible. The younger wore a look of child-like simplicity. The older smiled in his work. His face was scarred and weathered. His right eye looked as if the thickened flesh around it was deformed from burns and his face sported the dark spotty permanent black marks of traumatic tattoo. Obviously he had been a soldier at one time and the victim of a matchlock malfunction. The man sang a strange tune in German as he worked,

“Hey - ho - awayward we go with a tale never ending,
Listen now to the warning I sing and the message I am sending,
You can master your trade, skills with a blade or measures for survival and fending,
And it does you no good to run and hide for the masters will is unbending,

Try as you might you can run or fight but your efforts all will be futile,
Matters not who you are, the treasures you guard, or your knowledge and your style,
Matters not what you have, what you take or you give, or how much you live in denial,
Matters not how you look, ugly or fair, handsome or homely or vile,

Be it King or pauper, Prince or cooper – Bishop, fishmonger or knight,
Be it goose-girl or whore – soldier or more, burgher or banker or farmer,
Be it beggar or saint, goldsmith or mate, captain or gypsy or charmer,
Be it surf or Lord, in peace or by sword we will all come to see the same sight,

The refrain is the same for us all -
everyone! - with invite for final ball,
We all have to bow so low to the ground, in meeting our last partner.
He will bow in return and greet us we'll learn -
with bone hands he will spin us and twirl us.

We'll all of us end up much the same -
on our backs looking upwards from cold earthy graves -
as we all dance a jig with the reaper,
Yes we all have our dance with death,

Yeay we must all finally dance with death.....”

Holbein-death.png


As the song ended Heyn's group walked up maintaining a cautious distance from the dead. Piet spoke in German, “Is this the road to the coach stop and Inn I've heard about?”

“Aye”, the old gravedigger responded as the two men threw the last of the bodies into the wagon, “The Bilderberg Inn is less than two leagues up this road.” He turned to face Heyn. “Not as many dead today.
The dead always ride better if you shift them to the front of the wagon. There is more space than usual to the back. We are going that way if you wish to ride with us...that is - if you don't mind sharing my wagon with the dead.”

Jacobi answered, “Pieter I would rather walk. I have no desire to die of plague.”

The old gravedigger laughed, “Been doing this for years in many places. I've never died of plague. People don't believe old Golo when I tell them that there are only three ways that you can catch plague. The first is to be coughed or spat upon by a one that has it. Obviously, these lot are not going to cough or spit any longer.” He chuckled. “The second is if you were to be bit by the fleas in their clothes. This town is smarter than most. They've figured that out. They burn their clothes. The fleas don't like them as much when they're dead and they hate the smoke. By the time they take their final ride in my wagon it's very unlikely any more fleas are upon them.”

There was a pause and Heyn spoke, “And the third way to catch plague?”

“AH!” Golo laughed, “The third way is if you decided to lick their buboes. I don't think any sane man would lick their sores, but animals do – I've seen them - and animals can catch and spread plague too. So you see my wagon is just as safe to ride upon as the fine coaches I'm sure you gentlemen are regularly accustomed to.”

Heyn responded, “Very well Sir we will ride with you.”

Jacobi's eyes got big and he grunted in protest.

“What's the matter Jacobi?”, Heyn inquired. “You have told me more times than I can count that we move upon a path that God intends for us. Here he provides us transportation along with a vivid reminder of our own mortality. If he intends for our demise to be by plague then don't you think we will catch it in one place or another eventually?”

Jacobi thought about what Heyn said longer than usual and seemed a little perplexed that the captain had come to embrace his logic so thoroughly. For a moment he felt a little ashamed at his own lack of faith and then jumped into the wagon with Pieter without protest. They both helped Adolpho aboard, each taking one of his hands. None of the other travelers was willing to climb aboard.

As the wagon lurched forward, the long heavy steps of the draft horse's trotting quickened. Both Jacobi and Adolpho faced and looked to the rear of the wagon – avoiding even a glimpse of what lay behind them. Heyn on the otherhand decided to get comfortable and rested his back upon the wagon's left bed slats. He looked to his left watching the dead bodies bounce lifelessly as the wagon moved over the dirt road's bumps and holes. He looked up at the gravediggers. The younger drove and faced forward. The elder was sitting on the wagon's forward bench facing backwards with a smile observing his living passengers. Heyn and the gravedigger's eyes met and the old man spoke, “I am Golo and this is Kristof. He can't speak.”

Heyn nodded and there was a pause.

Golo continued, “You look like a soldier. Are you a soldier?”

“Of a sort.” Piet answered.

Golo smiled wider and nodded, “Knew it – some kind of officer I'd judge by those fine wheellock's you carry. I used to be a soldier. Long time ago. I've had lots of balls wedged in this old flesh”, he bragged as he pounded his chest with his hand. “Where are you going?”

“Rotterdam”, Piet answered.

Golo shook his head side to side and whistled, “Long way to go. You'll definitely find work along the way if you want it. Troops of raiding Leaguers and Reformers clashing north of here for a while now. The armies seem to get bigger and bigger all the time. We never fielded that many men in my time. They couldn't feed or pay so many. When they couldn't pay or feed us they simply set us loose on the close-by towns, looting and burning whatever we pleased. Oh those were the days. The pure carnage. Ah to only go back and do it all again.”

Heyn was puzzled, “I too often wish I could go back, but I would not let my blood burn so hot if I had it all to do again. Do you mean to tell me that you love all of this death around you and that you enjoyed the killing?”

The gravedigger answered, “Oh yes. I would kill even more if I could go back. You see Death and me go way back. I am a good friend of his you might say - we are almost related. Death and me have an understanding. All this religious dogma that thousands fight and die over is just a way for the reaper to maximize his harvest. Death is the only thing that is certain in this damnable, wretched, painful and unfair life. He will always come no matter what. And he is the most fair. You cannot cheat or pay off the reaper. It's as I was just singing in my favorite song – the Totentanz. It doesn't matter how rich or powerful you are or how beautiful you are. You can be unfairly blessed in this life, but death is still coming for you. Of that you can count on. It always makes my heart glow inside nice and warm like, knowing that those high born gentlemen that wronged me and my family years ago will all end up in the earth. If anything, I may end up in an even better situation than they in the afterlife considering what good friends I am with Death and all. I am very content to help the reaper in his handiwork.”

The men stopped talking and there was a long silence. Golo turned himself around on the bench facing forward once again. Pieter thought to himself that the man was clearly insane. He looked down at the lifeless bodies riding and bouncing about forward in the wagon. He watched as a mildly fair young woman shifted slowly downward from the bodies she lay atop moving towards an equally young man. The two corpses hands almost touched as if in greeting. Suddenly a bump in the road caused the naked young man to be tossed upwards a few inches as he came back down into the embrace of the young dead woman. Piet wondered if the two had even known one another in life and thought it cruel how death seemed to mock living opportunities for love and closeness that could never happen now. He wished to himself that he had never witnessed such a sight and looked up into the woods.

Another league passed quickly as the wagon moved forward into a slight misty fog. Golo tapped his companion on the shoulder, “Stop here Kristof.” The wagon stopped at a fork in the road. Two more corpses lay on the side of the road at the fork.

The old man turned his head around and spoke, “Well my friends, here is where we must part. I must go east up this fork in the road. More dead to pick up and then to the pit. If you look up the road there, you should just be able to make out the buildings of the Bilderberg Inn on the left. The group jumped down from the wood bed as the gravediggers also dismounted and threw the two dead men up into the wagon.

The wagon lurched forward again. Golo waved to the living. “Farewell my friends, may you have a good journey.” The old gravedigger laughed and began to sing the Totentanz again as the wagon of the dead disappeared into the misty fog of the road entering into the tall dark forest. “Hey ho awayward we go with a story never ending.....”

Heyn, Jacobi and Adolpho were on foot again walking north on the road a short distance more to the Inn ahead. It was obviously a small crossroads stop, and several coaches sat in front of the fine two storied, black and white, half-timbered wattle and dawb buildings. One of the coaches was unbelievably ornate and as fine as any moving thing Heyn had ever seen. Its four horses were all pure white and they were perfect examples of the finest equine breeding. Feathers topped the harnesses of each one. Heyn and Jacobi looked at one another and Jacobi spoke, “I wonder what dandee, royal or prince this belongs to.”

Heyn answered, “hopefully they are civil and reasonable.”

Stay tuned for Part 17. Homeward Bound: Bankers and Battles....soon
 
For the few that were actually following this story....(I think the view numbers are a bad indicator because most are probably one minute or a few second looks or because a link brought them to the page)

If anyone wants me to continue please say so, because otherwise I'm stopping here. The negotiations I had with the publisher changed in an unacceptable way. So if I can't find another publisher soon, this along with my other Historical Age of Sail stories not posted on PA will go Kindle book soon.

MK
 
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