was woken by the sound of shouting from the deck above. Immediately, she sensed that something was wrong and struggled into her gown, which fastened at the front to make it easy for travelling. Although she had a maid, the girl was in the next cabin and still terribly ill from the sickness she had suffered during the storm. Eleanor did not know her well, and felt that it would be better to manage alone for the moment.
She paused, then took a few seconds to don her ugly cap, tucking all her hair beneath the veil at the back. She was already wearing her father’s treasure, but her cross and chain were lying on the chest beside her. She was about to snatch them up when her brother came rushing into the cabin.
‘Forgive me,’ he cried, clearly frightened. ‘But Father says you must come. We must all be together. He means to bargain with them…’
‘Bargain with whom?’ Eleanor asked. ‘I do not understand you, Dickon. What is happening?’
‘Corsairs,’ he said, his cheeks pale. ‘They have a fast galley and are bearing down on us hard. We cannot move, Eleanor—which means they will board us.’
‘May God have mercy!’
Eleanor knew what this meant. Every vessel feared an attack by the fearsome pirates who roamed these waters—but their ship was fast and powerful and would usually be capable of outrunning the pirates’ galley. Not without a wind! They were helpless, caught in a trap!
Now Eleanor understood what her father meant about bargaining with the Corsairs. Their only chance was that the captain of the galley would be prepared to sell them to their friends—rather than either killing them or selling them in the slave markets of Algiers.
She was trembling inwardly as she went up on deck. Their lives were truly in the hands of a higher being now. They could be dead within minutes—or prisoners. She held her head erect as she went to join her father. He kissed her on both cheeks.
‘Forgive me, child. When I jested with you, I never dreamed this would happen.’
‘Your jest did not make it happen, Father,’ she replied, refusing to show her fear. Her eyes flashed with anger. ‘The storm brought us to this—and these barbarians take advantage of our plight. Now tell me they are civilized people, Father!’
The galley had drawn alongside as she spoke and she could see the grinning faces of the men who had begun to swarm up the sides of the ship. They were strange, fearsome faces and she felt close to fainting—but she would not give in to such weakness! She would stand up to these heathen devils if she died for it.
The screaming and killing had begun as the sailors prepared to defend themselves from the invaders. They knew their fate if they were taken, and many preferred a swift death to being chained in a galley until they were flogged to death or starved at the oars. Eleanor watched the carnage about her, her face remarkably unmoved—but inside she was shocked and horrified by the cruelty of the invaders. They gave no mercy…even when a cabin boy, who had at first tried to fight, sank to his knees and begged to live.
Eleanor put her arm about Richard’s shoulders. If they were to die, then they would die together.
One of the Corsairs—a tall man with swarthy looks and cruel eyes—had seen them. He appeared to be the leader of these men and he pointed towards Eleanor, giving what was obviously a command.
She lifted her head, meeting those cruel eyes proudly, daring him to touch her. He grinned suddenly as if he recognized the challenge and said something more to his men. Three of them were coming towards them, their manner purposeful.
‘Do not be frightened,’ she said to Richard. ‘Be true to your inner self whatever they do. Remember, you are Richard Nash, and—’
The men had arrived and started to grab at her. She pushed her brother behind her, trying to shield him, but one of the men swooped on her, lifting her and throwing her over his shoulder.
‘Father!’ she cried. ‘I love you—I love Richard.’
She kicked and struggled for all she was worth, but knew it was useless. The man carried her as though she were a sack of straw. He was taking her towards the side of the ship where she was lifted over into the arms of their leader, who was waiting to receive her. The pirates were gathering what they could now and retreating to their galley. Eleanor looked back and saw her father. He was trying to talk to one of the pirates, but the man struck him a blow to the side of the head and he fell to the deck, bleeding profusely.
‘Father…’ she cried despairingly. She saw that another of the pirates had her brother, who was kicking and struggling valiantly against his captor. ‘Don’t fight, Richard…try to live…’ It was her father’s instruction to her and she vowed that she would try. ‘I love you, Father,’ she murmured. ‘I wish they had killed me too…but I shall try to do what you asked of me…’
She could hear the Corsairs shouting and pointing. Glancing out towards the sea, she saw another, larger, faster galley approaching them swiftly. It was a Spanish war galley—and the Spaniards were sworn enemies of the Corsairs.
‘Oh, please God let them be in time,’ Eleanor prayed. ‘Let the Spanish captain of the galley wreak vengeance on these murdering devils. Let us be rescued…’
Tears were trickling down her cheeks as she was dumped on board the galley and then dragged off to what was clearly the cabin of the Corsairs’ leader. She was thrust inside what was an airless hole and she fell to the ground, hitting her head against an iron chest as she did so.
Eleanor was claimed by the merciful blackness and did not know that the Spanish galley had chosen not to pursue their enemy. Its captain was even now climbing aboard the crippled merchant vessel, intent on rescuing the remaining crew of a Christian ship, unaware that the Corsairs had taken prisoners before they ran…
Chapter Two
Eleanor could not be sure how long she had lain in the stuffy, airless cabin. When she first came to herself, she had been aware of pain in her head and very little else. She lay in a state of semi-consciousness, drifting in and out of awareness. Hours passed before she felt her shoulder being roughly shaken and then found herself looking up into the bearded face of the man who had captured her. His fierce eyes snapped with what she thought was anger, sending a ripple of terror winging through her. She gave a moan of fear and shrank back, but instead of cruelly ravishing her as she half expected, he thrust a cup of water into her hand.
‘Drink, woman,’ he muttered in French.
‘You speak French?’ Eleanor asked in the same tongue. ‘Please—tell me what has happened to my brother. Is Richard alive?’
‘Be silent, woman. Drink now—food later.’
Eleanor sat up as the door of the officers’ cabin closed behind him. She sipped the water gratefully. It was cool, fresh and sweet on her lips, taking the taste of ashes from her mouth. For the first time she was able to think clearly and began to wonder how long she had been on board the galley—was it merely hours or days?
Gingerly, she put a hand to the back of her head and found that her hood had been removed, and that there was a patch of dried blood in her hair. Someone must have taken the headdress off while she was unconscious, probably to see what had rendered her that way. It was the blow to the side of her head as she fell that had done the damage, but she ached all over and wondered if she had suffered
