The Buccaneer(3)

Catherine found her actions and stories entertaining and she was going to sorely miss Dulcie. “Everything packed?” she asked.

“Yes, my lady. M'lady?” The servant’s tone was shaky and reluctant as though nervous to speak.

“Yes, Dulcie.” Catherine turned to face her.

“I fear for you, my lady.” Dulcie began to cry. “I know I’ve only been working here two years, but I like you. You’ve been the kindest lady to me. And I kept my word and didn’t tell anyone about where you’re going, but I’ve heard stories. Horrible stories.”

Catherine took her hand, noticing both their palms were clammy. “What stories?”

“They ain’t fit for a lady’s ears,” Dulcie insisted in protection of her mistress’s virginal sensibilities.

“But you heard them,” Catherine argued, tired of always being treated like a lady who would learn nothing of intimacy until her wedding night.

“I ain’t a lady highborn like you.”

“Please, Dulcie. Tell me, or I will leave on this trip ever fearful.”

Dulcie looked at her mistress, nodded and then anxiously glanced about the room. Seeing the door open she rushed over, closed it, and bolted the lock. She hurried back.

Catherine sat on the bed and patted the spot next to her, impatient to hear all. “Sit and tell me.”

Dulcie sat and lifted the cross, hanging on a chain around her neck, to her mouth. She kissed it and mumbled a quick prayer for protection before she began. “It ain’t right that you have to do this. Pirates are evil beings, especially Lucifer. He ain’t named after the devil himself for nothing.”

“Many of them are poor unfortunate souls who had no choice in the matter of becoming a pirate,” Catherine said, seeking to believe her own assumption.

Dulcie slowly shook her head. “Pirates ain’t got souls.”

Catherine was stunned. “Nonsense, everyone has a soul.”

“No, m'lady, evil beings don’t have souls and them pirates are evil. I hear tell—” Dulcie stopped, covered her mouth and widened her eyes fearfully as though if she spoke the words an avenging demon would strike her dead.

“Tell me, Dulcie, nothing can harm you here,” Catherine said, though oddly enough sensing a tingle of fear.

Dulcie’s voice was soft and her tone low as she began. “I heard tell that a man captured by a pirate had his ear nailed to the mast because the captain wanted to make certain he’d stay put. And another had a man buried alive up to his neck near the water’s edge so when the tide rolled in the man would drown.” She crossed herself and shook her head. “Only the crabs got to him first.”

“These are just stories probably made up by bragging men to entertain each other at the local public house,” Catherine said with more conviction than she felt.

“No, my lady, these stories have been told by men who’ve seen it with their own eyes. And they say Lucifer’s the worst. He was so angered by one of his prisoners for talking too much that he had the man’s lips sewn shut and left him on a deserted island. He died, mum.”

“Then who told the story?” Catherine asked, finding the story too preposterous to believe.

“One of the other men that was captured with him. He got away at one of the ports and made his way back to England.”

Catherine covered her mouth with her hand, thinking of all the times her tongue got carried away, rattling on about nonsensical things.

“And the women, my lady,” Dulcie said, shaking her head and kissing he cross once again.

Catherine’s skin crawled with gooseflesh. “The women?”

“Oh, yes, mum, the women. Captain Lucifer is known for his fondness of them though it’s been heard it isn’t always fondness he treats them with.”

If not fondness then what? Indifference? Savagery? Contempt? Catherine did not care for her musings. “And you’ve heard stories regarding this?”

Dulcie nodded her head vigorously, her brow curls bobbing along her forehead from beneath her mobcap.

“Tell me,” Catherine insisted, needing to learn all she could before her marriage.

“My lady, excuse me for saying so, but you have no experience in such matters.”

“Granted I’ve no firsthand knowledge, but I’m not ignorant of the basic act that goes on between a man and woman,” she said, wishing most fervently that she was knowledgeable beyond the basic act. She had no idea how a wife should act, react or feel, and the lack of information greatly disturbed her.

“Lucifer enjoys more than the basic act, mum. According to tales, one captured lady failed to entertain him to his specifications, so he had her thrown overboard and he was heard to yell, ‘since you can’t please me, you’ll please the bloody sharks.’”