The Reverend's Daughter (Book 2 after The Duke's Daughter)

Thirty Part Four

Brutus paced the King's antechamber. His footsteps echoed sharply throughout the room as he nervously awaited an audience with the Monarch. What did the King want from him? Would he receive his pardon? The King had taken the Wench from Violet, what would he want from him? Brutus wondered if he would also be required to pay a penance for the pirating he had done. These thoughts and more ran through his head, as he came to a halt, standing in front of the wall of weapons. Brutus smiled slightly, as he noticed Violet's claymore had already been showcased behind the glass.

This brought to Brutus' mind the skirmishes that had involved the massive sword, not to mention, the one in which Violet had won it. The Scottish Laird had actually been impressed. Making a presentation of the piece when he had been beaten, he had declared Violet the better warrior. Brutus could imagine the Laird's surprise if he knew the sword now hung in the English castle. Smiling at the memory, Brutus recalled how the Scots had gone from ferocious fighters to humorously friendly upon being subdued.

Violet had taken the sword, honorably won, and had graciously accepted the praise of the Laird. Vi also lauded the Laird's skills, making a great show of how the Laird had almost taken the win himself. There had been much back patting and compliments bestowed between the crews once the fight had been fought and the victors declared.

Violet had liked the Scots so much, he had ended up not taking any of their cargo. The Bonny Lass had been safe from the crew of the Wench, and their pillaging, from that day forward. The crews had met one another again upon occasion, calling out greetings, seeing how one another and their families faired.

Brutus would miss those encounters upon the sea with the other sailors that he now called friends. He would also miss the opportunity to snatch as many children as he could from the wrong hands. He needed to figure out where he would go from here, and he had not a clue at the moment.

"Brutus Marks." The King's man called out from the door to the inner sanctum.

Brutus turned upon hearing his name. With purposeful strides, he nodded to the man at the door, then preceded him into the King's domain.

The King sat upon his throne as Brutus approached. Brutus bowed deeply, then awaited the King's pleasure.

The King eyed him pointedly up and down.

Brutus did not shy away from the piercing stare. He returned the gaze, assessing the Monarch just as closely.

"You have served Captain Petals and his endeavors for a good many years now, so I have been told." The King eyed Brutus' face, which seemed to hold honesty, and purpose, as he answered.

"I have, my Liege." Brutus nodded in the affirmative.

"Am I truly... Your Liege?" The King asked him.

"Aye, Sire." Brutus held firm in his loyalty to King and country.

"And yet you have served another all this time." The King observed.

"I made a choice when I was younger, Sire. I could not raise the funds to procure a commission, I would rather have served you, given that choice." Brutus remembered the hours he and Violet had spent, discussing their options and their futures.

They had been young and restless, wanting to sail the seas, to set out and see as much of the world as they could. Little did they know at the time where their decisions would land them.

They had done the best they could with the opportunities they had been given. Brutus was proud of the lengths they had gone to. He knew of no others who plied the sea, trying to save the innocent victims of evil men, or the hungry, hopeless ones upon the docks.