Chapter 17

"Whose ship is that?"

Pedro was standing by the gangway of the Hawk, watching as the men working on the jetty at Eko hurried to tie off his ship. It was a week later and Pedro's force had finally returned home. It had been a long, hard trip for everyone involved. They had been forced to nursemaid the galley barge up the coast the whole time, restricting their progress to the speed of the oarsmen working it. Their trip had taken even longer since Pedro had been forced to put a prize crew over onto the Bella Louise as well. It had meant long hours for everyone. Now however they were home. It was late in the day and there was still much to be done before the men could be dismissed and Pedro could return to his residence but rest was close at hand. Though tired it still did not mean that the young nobleman was oblivious to the obvious.

The obvious was the unknown carrack tied up on the other side of the jetty from where the Hawk was now being secured. The obvious was also the fact that most of the ships that had been in the lagoon when they had sailed weeks ago were now gone. Of the seven ships that had laid at anchor when the Hawk had sailed southward on its expedition, only two now bobbed at anchor. They were the Virago and the Bella Maria. The absence of the other vessels had caused Pedro a moment of anxiousness as the Hawk had slipped into the lagoon, but the anxiousness hadn't lasted long. Bartholomew had reminded Pedro that some of the ships might have been sent off trading while the others may have been sent to Gwato for repair. Anything was possible and Pedro had to accept it. Still it had only taken the sighting of the unknown craft to shift Pedro's attention from one fear to another.

"Well it is Portuguese," Bartholomew muttered in a low voice as he stood beside his captain, "so you needn't worry that it carries the troops of Don Hugo. Perhaps it is just a trader that tied up in hopes of doing business. It is possible you know."

"That is true old friend," Pedro acknowledged freely, "but still highly unlikely. Any merchant from Lisbon would go to Gwato rather than make for us. There is more trade there and everyone knows it."

"Well we'll know who they are soon enough," Bartholomew replied, stretching as he did. "Here comes Ibrahim and Salem. I'm certain that they will tell us everything you want to know."

As Bartholomew had stated, Ibrahim was in fact hurrying from the Port Gate. He was shadowed closely by his manservant Salem who was armed with a long curving sword. The old teacher was clearly in a rush. His long robes fluttered about him as he strode quickly down the pathway that led from the gate to the jetty. When his booted feet hit the dock the sound of his strides rang out loudly, telling all to get out of his way. Frantically men busy securing the Hawk stepped aside as the old man pushed by them.

"What drives you old teacher?" Pedro called out to Ibrahim as the man reached the gangplank of the Hawk. As he spoke the man turned up the long walk and he hurried to the top. When he got there he threw his arms about Pedro and clutched him in greetings.

"Pedro my boy," Ibrahim exclaimed openly and loudly with panting breath, "I am pleased to see you again. I have prayed for your return each day since the moment you took to the sea and I am very pleased to see that you have come back to me not only safe but well. May Allah be praised for hearing my prayers and returning not only you home but all who sailed with you. I am very pleased."

"That is obvious my friend," Pedro chuckled in response, patting the man on the shoulder as he spoke, "and I am pleased to be home and greeted in such a manner. It is however a little unexpected. In all the years of me sitting at your knee learning what you could beat into my thick skull I have never seen you in such a state. Is everything well?"

"Everything is well here Pedro," Ibrahim replied in a lowered, calmer voice, "but things are not well in Lisbon and I have some grievous news to share with you once your ship has been secured and you have told me of your adventure. Did your mission go as you had planned?"

"Better!" Bartholomew declared enthusiastically before Pedro could reply. "We've rescued Dom Luis!"

"Your father is alive!" Ibrahim exclaimed loudly, his eyes widening as he gazed questioningly from Bartholomew to Pedro. "Did you really rescue him? Is he here upon the Hawk? Is he well?"

"He is here my old teacher," Pedro informed Ibrahim in but a whisper of a voice, certainly less enthusiastically than the tone put forth by Bartholomew. "My father sleeps within my cabin at this moment and we watch over him day and night. He is not the man you will remember. He barely stirs into consciousness and then only to sip broth from a spoon. I haven't even been able to speak to him. I fear that his time in captivity has broken him. I also fear that his days are numbered."

"No," Ibrahim groaned in reply, the euphoria that had been on his face a moment ago now wiped away. "I am sorry to hear that my young pupil. Your father has always been my friend."

"I know that Ibrahim," Pedro nodded in acknowledgement, still solemn in his expression, "and I appreciate your words. I pray to God that he will be merciful in this matter. We can only wait and hope."

"If Allah will's it my young pupil," Ibrahim intoned reverently looking towards heaven as he spoke, "it will be so. I will pray for Dom Luis as well."

"Thank you my friend," Pedro said with a sigh. For a second Pedro fell silent and the men about him kept their peace for they knew where his thoughts were. Then the young nobleman forced himself to meet Ibrahim's gaze once more. As he did, he spoke. "Tell me old teacher of mine whose ship is this that stands tied opposite of mine and more importantly, what is this grievous news that you must share with me? What has happened back in Lisbon that it spoils my return and darkens your face? Speak up!"

"He's still sleeping," Pedro sighed softly a while later as he walked into his father's office in the Factor's residence. There waiting for him were Bartholomew, Ishmael, Ibrahim, and Omar. All of the men were looking very solemn. "He did not even stir when he was carried from the Hawk to the residence. I fear he may not wake again."

"It is to be expected Pedro," Ibrahim muttered in reply, looking uncertain as he spoke to his former pupil. "Dom Luis has suffered greatly for the last year or so. It is a wonder that he is still breathing. Now that he has been rescued, the force that kept him going has slipped away. As you told me yourself, his time with us will probably be short. I am sorry to say it, but we both know it is true. All we can do if to pray for him and make him as comfortable as we can in these final days."

"No Ibrahim," Pedro declared forcefully in a voice sharp with anger and rage, "it is not the only thing we can do for my father. However for now we will not speak of what else we can do. That we can leave for tomorrow. Tonight however I wish to speak to this messenger that you have told me about. The one who has travelled from Lisbon bearing such news that it has chilled even your cheerful heart. Where is this person?'

"The messenger awaits upon your summons my lord," Omar spoke up before Ibrahim could reply, "I will go and fetch the messenger if you wish."

"Do so Omar and thank you for your offer," Pedro muttered in reply, "and please be quick about it. I wish to question her and know the truth to what she has said to my old teacher."

The old servant turned and left the room as swiftly as his aged limbs permitted him only to return a few moments later accompanied by a person shrouded beneath a heavy, hooded travelling cloak. The person was medium tall and appeared to be slight of build. The cloak obscured all detail of their person from any interested in discerning knowledge of who the person was. Without command the person came to a halt a few feet from where Pedro stood leaning against the top of his father's desk. The person bowed their head slightly in acknowledgement of the young nobleman, but beyond that the person did or said nothing at all. Their behaviour brought stern looks to the faces of the other men.

"Greetings messenger," Pedro stated loudly taking no notice of the looks upon his companions faces, "and welcome to Eko. I am told by my friend and former teacher, Ibrahim de Valencia and my faithful servant Omar bin Assad that you arrived here just this morning upon the carrack, Sao Angelo de Faro. I am also told that you bore with you the signet ring of Don Ernesto Dias, my uncle's faithful retainer and major-domo. I have also been told that you bear with you grievous news."

"I do Dom Pedro," the hooded figure responded in a soft, half-whisper of a voice. It was the voice of a young woman.

Pedro sighed and then stepped forward towards the figure. As he did the figure shrank away from him.

"Do not fear me good Sister," Pedro said tenderly as he reached out to brush the hood off of the person's head. "I will not harm you."

"Please good master," the woman pleaded weakly as her hand darted out to ward off Pedro's reaching hands. "Do not embarrass me."

The words startled Pedro and he hesitated in his action for a second or two, then he pressed on. The first thing he did was to take hold of the woman's hands and to brush them aside tenderly. When the woman's resistance faltered Pedro then reached up and brushed away the hood that covered her face. Pedro's eyes went wide as he beheld the tear streaked face that lay hidden beneath it.

"Who did this to you Sister Abigail?" Pedro asked tenderly as he stared intently into the nun's tearful eyes.

Sister Abigail sobbed in reply and turned her face away from Pedro so that he could not see what he had already seen. Sister Abigail's face was disfigured by a long red scar that ran from her right temple down across her cheek and towards her mouth. It was weeks old and still in the process of healing but it was raw and it would mark the woman for the remainder of her life.

"Shush sweet Sister," Pedro murmured softly as he pulled the sobbing woman into his embrace, wrapping her up in his arms so that she could cry upon his shoulder. "You are safe here and I will protect you. No one will hurt you again."

At that Sister Abigail started to sob even louder. She cried and cried and her body shook with emotion. Pedro kissed her forehead and rocked her in his arms as she wept. No one else said a word. They didn't have to. They all seethed with rage.

"I've given her over to Asmara to tend to," Pedro said as he joined his friends out on the patio beneath the darkening skies that hung cloudless over the factory. "She will take care of her."

The men nodded their heads in acknowledgement but said nothing in response to their young master's words. Instead they simply made themselves comfortable about the table where food and drink lay waiting for them and they poured themselves a drink.

"Another reason to kill Don Hugo when I finally meet him again," Pedro declared coldly after pouring a drink down his throat in one quick motion.

"It is indeed, Dom Pedro," Ishmael murmured in agreement, knocking back his drink as well. The others just nodded their heads.

"We must make plans for that and other things," Pedro declared in a resolute manner. His voice was cold and still filled with anger and none raised an objection to his words. Instead they waited to here more. It didn't take long for Pedro to continue. With that statement the young nobleman took his place across from where the others had seated themselves. Then he went on. "Don Hugo has gone too far this time and I intend to make him pay. In God's name I swear it."

"Agreed Dom Pedro," Ishmael spoke in reply choosing to be the first of the men to speak, "but we must act cautiously in this matter. Regardless of his crimes Don Hugo is the Spanish Ambassador to the court of King Manuel and that makes the man dangerous at the very least. It also means that he has powerful allies within the king's court including her majesty the queen. If we are to defeat the man and rescue your cousins we must act wisely and with care."

"Ishmael speaks the truth in this matter Pedro," Ibrahim interjected before Pedro could voice his own opinion. "We must act but we must act cautiously. Even with what Sister Abigail has told us this night, if we act without a plan and a thought of how we are to succeed then we may fail in our actions and in the end your cousins may pay the price for our rashness."

"I agree with all of you," Pedro said after a second or two when Bartholomew chose not to speak up. "We know now that the Condor has struck in Lisbon and that he has killed my uncle and he has taken my cousins as hostages. We also know that when Sister Abigail sailed from Porto aboard the Sao Angelo de Faro that Don Ernesto was still alive. Hopefully he will still be so when we return to Portugal."

"We can only hope so Dom Pedro," Ishmael muttered with a deep fatigue edging his voice, "but only Allah knows and the Prophet who is his messenger. In the meantime we must review what we do know with certainty and plan accordingly based on that knowledge only. Anything otherwise would place us in danger and that is something we must avoid."

"I agree implicitly and I hear you clearly in this matter my faithful soldier." Pedro acknowledged openly before pressing on. "The question is what do we know for certain?"

Pedro asked this question to no man in particular. It was not truly a question for Pedro already knew the answer to it and he knew that his friends knew the answer to the question as well. It was more of a prompt to get the men discussing what they knew and to get them thinking about what they were going to do.

"We know what Captain Santiago has told us," Bartholomew began the discussion, "and what Captain Domingo of the Infanta Maria confessed when we interrogated him."

"They told us about Don Hugo's base in the Cape Verde archipelago," Ibrahim interjected in a thoughtful voice. "Both men have given a description of the base and references to where it is located on Bona Vista. We also know from their statements that the Condor has at least three more ships that operate from the base upon which the man could draw support from besides his royal galley. They are pirate vessels but according to Captain Domingo they are heavily armed as is the base."

"Not all of that is true," Ishmael stated bluntly, earning a surprised look from Ibrahim and Bartholomew in reply. "The fact is that I have interrogated a number of the common sailors off the Cadiz and the Madrid before shipping them off as slaves to the mines in Elmina and almost all of them have told me the same thing. The pirate haven is rudimentary as best. There are no defensive walls or towers and what cannon they have placed ashore point out to sea. While the officers that we interrogated declared the base to be strongly protected, the men questioned told me another thing. In truth their defences depend on the number of ships at anchor and the men from each of the vessels acting together as one. According to the men such a situation is rare. Regardless of the certainty of their intelligence I am confident that we could storm the enclave if we wanted to. Besides the few cannon stationed ashore at the mouth of the cove where their ships anchor between raids the haven consists of little else except for a few storage buildings, a bunkhouse, and a brothel."

"So we could take it if we wanted to. That is good," Pedro uttered simply to acknowledge the fact before moving on. "So tell me what else do we know?"

"We know that Don Ernesto is in hiding in Porto," Ishmael pointed out solemnly, "and if we are to believe the good Sister, the man though wounded was well before she left Portugal."

"I trust Sister Abigail completely," Pedro declared in a tone that told all that he would not brook any further questions on the matter. "She has served my uncle and my House for five years now and I believe her to be loyal. She has said that unknown men attacked Don Ernesto and his men the moment that she and my cousins stepped from the secret passage that lay beneath my uncle's villa. She has also said that the men struck at all there save for my cousins. It was clear that the attackers wanted them alive. Sister Abigail has even declared that one told another that the Count would flay their hides if a hair was harmed upon either of my cousins' heads."

"Yet she did not say which Count would see to it," Ishmael pointed out. "The men could have been in the service of Don Hugo or Dom Henrique. We do not know."

"That is true," Pedro admitted without hesitating, "but I for one believe the men were in the service of the Count de Cordoba. In any case, Sister Abigail has also stated that while she lay injured upon the ground and before she and Don Ernesto made their escape, that she overheard a man saying that Alfonso would want to see the girls first before any other saw them at all. To me it is clear that the man was speaking about Alfonso de Seville, the Condor's henchman."

"So we must go after Don Hugo," Bartholomew interjected in a questioning manner, "and ignore Dom Henrique for the moment."

"For now yes," Pedro nodded in agreement, "but I would not use the word ignore. We know from speaking to Estefan and to the man who came to meet with him that Dom Henrique is no friend of my family and House. We also know from the man who poisoned Dom Jose that Don Hugo and Dom Henrique are allied. The truth is that both Counts are our enemy and we will need to deal with them both before this struggle is over."

"You may be right Pedro," Ibrahim sighed interrupting the conversation, "and you may be wrong. Regardless of that we know that someone has taken your cousins and according to the nun, your uncle is missing and presumed dead. We will not know more than that until we have reached Portugal and we have found Don Ernesto. Until then we can only guess as to where your cousins are."

"So that is the plan then," Pedro stated after a moment of silence in which each man looked at the other but said nothing. "We shall sail to Cape Verde and seek out Don Hugo's secret base there. Once we have found it, we will strike and destroy it. Without a fleet to back him up or the plunder and spoils that he has amassed, the Condor's talons will have been pulled. He might squawk and flap his wings but he will not be able to do us much harm. Then once we have done this we will sail for Porto and find Don Ernesto. The captain of the Sao Angelo de Faro claims to be kin and he has vouched to Ibrahim here that he has seen Don Ernesto with his own eyes and that he knows how to contact him if we chose to sail back to Portugal to confront the Condor. Thus the man will sail with him and his ship will serve in our armada."

"We will need more ships than just the Hawk and the Sao Angelo," Bartholomew pointed out, concern crossing his face. "Even with luck and the aid of God we will need cannon and steel to defeat this band of brigands and that is something we cannot rush."

"Then we will not rush this, my friend," Pedro declared with a heavy sigh. "Even though I would rather raise sails in the morning and head out in search of my cousins, I will not do it. The truth is that I have learned my lesson about being impatient. We need ships and as Ibrahim has told us our ships are at Gwato being repaired. When that has been accomplished we will sail and not before then. Is that agreed?"

"Will you take me with you?" Ishmael asked pointedly, taking the others by surprise.