Pirates' Destiny: In Hazardous Pursuit

Chapter 2: Folly (Lucy)

The morning my ordinary life ended began surprisingly ordinarily. But is that not when peculiar things happen - when we least expect them?

I rose as I always did - before the sun. After having dressed myself in an old tunic and trousers, I woke my father and collected the eggs from the chickens in the henhouse near the stables to cook for breakfast. Once that was done and my father had made his way to the table, we said our prayers and ate.

"You know, Lucille, I am not helpless. You don't have to do my work for me."

"Nonsense." I glanced up at my elderly father. He had once been able to handle the most fiery stallions and temperamental mares. Last year, though, he'd had an accident with a yearling that had left him incapable of lifting anything heavier than a bag of grain. "With your back, I doubt you could lift your arms to light a lantern." He frowned at me from over his eggs. "I don't mind it, honestly. I enjoy the work. You can even go to church, now."

"That is not as important to me as your health. Lucille, promise me you will do as you always have done and stay out of trouble."

"Father, you know I will. And will you please just call me Lucy? Lucille is a bit... pompous sounding, and no one calls me that."

"And why should I do that? I named you after all, if no one else will, someone must use the name." He chuckled and continued to eat.

As the daughter of a governor's stable groom, I had been raised to serve those above me since I was a young girl. Following rules was a given. Breaking them, however, was a death sentence. In a moment's notice, you would find yourself thrown to the streets for the rats and thieves to devour. Work was not easy to come by - especially in these times - and for an unmarried girl of my age, there was only one place to end up. I clung to this job as a drunk would cling to a bottle of the finest rum. I had to support my family.

Before I had taken over for my father, we had never gone to church. My parents were too busy, and I was learning the ropes of serving the governor's household. My mother's family was catholic, and she would read the bible to us every night when I was young. But since she had passed away, neither I nor my father could bear to keep up the tradition. I still couldn't attend church, but I didn't mind. At least he could.

We finished our breakfast, and I left him to wash the dishes to head off to work.

The dark that lingers before dawn didn't linger that morning. I began by fetching water for the twelve horses that took residence in the stables - my stables, I liked to imagine - and the seven mares along with their foals out in the pasture. This alone was a long and gruelling task that took me an hour at least to do, but was well worth it to get to see the foals play in the troughs.

I grained the stalled horses, using molasses to top the grain of two geldings and a mare that would be used in a hunt that afternoon for the governor and a foreign lord and his young son. The molasses would give them the energy boost they would need to keep up with the hounds.

I took a pitchfork to the hay and fed it to both the horses in and outside the stables. I doubted that the ones in the pasture would eat it, but my father had always told me that it was better to overfeed them than underfeed them.

It was when I had begun to clean the stalls that it happened. While they ate, I came in with the horses to shovel out the dirty straw and any other undesirables and refill it with clean straw. I had cleaned three stalls when I heard a sound.

While noise is ordinary in any barn - and to be honest, expected - this noise was peculiar. A horse does not sneeze and then bless himself.

I crept out of the stall I had half cleaned and gently leaned my shovel against the wall. Quietly picking up my pitchfork from a pile of hay, I made my way towards the source of the sneeze, looking in each stall as I passed. I made it to the last stall when I looked in to see a young man attempting to saddle a mare.

"You!" I brandished my pitchfork as a knight would a halberd. "State your business or get out before I report you to the guard."

"Mind your own business, woman," the man growled, threw the saddle aside, and haphazardly bridled the mare. It irked me, but who would pay mind to a 19 year old stable hand, let alone a stable girl?

I tentatively moved closer to the stall. "I'm warning you, boy, if you try anything, I can and will take you down." A lie, but perhaps not a whole one. I was confident in my ability to use a pitchfork. If I could use one to fling hay at hungry animals day in and day out, I was certain it would not be much harder to fling a man out of a barn door.

In one quick motion, the boy hopped onto the horse, not bothering to saddle her, and urged her into a canter, quickly bringing her out of the stall and to the door. I lunged and connected with his shoulder, effectively pushing him to the ground and scaring the now riderless mare into running outside on her own. I held him down with the pitchfork, glaring at him. He dared to steal a horse, especially a horse from a governor's stables?

 I thought of the pirate that had come through a day ago. He'd caused an awful disturbance in the town, and a blacksmith - of all things! - had taken him down. 'Was this what it was like for that blacksmith?' Letting my mind wander was the last thing I should have done: one distracted glance away was all it took for the thief to kick my ankles, bringing me down. He pulled the pitchfork from his shoulder and aimed it at my throat, a dash of blood still on the tip of the prongs. I hadn't realized I'd struck that deeply. He then took a breath and yelled for the guard, as I should have done the moment I had brought him down. I was confused. Was he turning himself in?

A few moments later, a member of the watch showed up. "Please, sir, arrest this man, I caught him stealing the governor's mare from the stables!" I gasped at the red coated guard, keenly aware of the tool turned weapon inches from the soft skin of my neck.

The boy laughed, casual and carefree. He had the air of a small child that had just stolen a cookie and gotten away without having been caught by his mother. Why was he..?

"She has twisted the story, good sir. I came to inspect the steeds to be used for my father's hunt with your good governor this afternoon, and found this woman preparing to steal a horse. When I confronted her, she attacked me." He shrugged his injured shoulder. "Please arrest this woman while I catch the poor mare. She's likely spooked her out of her wits by now." He pulled the pitchfork away from me and leaned against the wall.

'His father's hunt?' I stared, wide-eyed at the young man. 'Surely he isn't...'

"Yes, my lord," the guard replied dutifully.

'God help me,' I thought, as he clapped my hands in irons and dragged me away.