FicWad

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN


I lay in the bed studying the man who had stolen the very heart from my chest. His wild masculine beauty moved me. I found myself wishing to pamper him. So, I slipped from the bed, dressed and went to fetch the morning meal. The Inn’s kitchen offered an extensive menu. My mouth watered seeing the elegant French sauces, but I knew they would not find favor with my lover’s palate. I sought to indulge him, and ordered a selection of cheeses and bread, seared beef, and sliced tomatoes and cucumbers. They filled a tray, adding a carafe of chilled juice and a goblet. I did not ask for a second.


Upstairs, I entered our room to discover my indian awake and pulling on his breeches. “What are you doing out of bed, mon amour?”


He pushed a skein of shiny black hair back over his shoulder. “I intended to seek you.”


I placed the tray on the small table between two deep chairs. “You have found me. Come break your fast.”


He crossed to me and reached to pull me to him. I met his gaze, seeing my reflection in his jet eyes. His hands slid around to my arms and unhurriedly up to hold my jaw. Rubbing his thumbs back and forth in a simple, affectionate caress made a subtly rasping sound where I had not shaved. Enrapt, I stood acquiescent. My heart performed a curious tumble as he slowly brought his lips to mine. I closed my eyes and heard the breath sigh from my lungs. His tongue delved into my mouth and courted mine. Potent libidinous and emotional response roared through me. I held him tighter and wondered if a kiss could kill.
Just when I thought it might, he pressed a warm, damp kiss at each corner of my lips and released me.


We ate as lovers, sharing the victuals between kisses. I smiled seeing my hands tremble as I fed him from my fingers. Mon Dieu. What pure Heaven.


After we satisfied one hunger, we indulged another. I put my hand under his hair to cradle his skull. He came out of his chair and went to his knees between my thighs. My erection already strained at my breeches. I reached down as we kissed and rubbed his rigid cock through his breeches. He pushed my hand away and in a moment had my very needy phallus in his hot, velvety mouth. I slid my fingers through his cool, silky hair. His tongue, that sweet instrument of torture, danced over my throbbing erection. He conjured the most delicious sensations. My belly went tauter than a drum and carnal fire began to spark in my blood.


I knew he would have me spilling and I urged his head up. He released my erection with endearing reluctance. Looking at me with searing obsidian eyes, he groaned, “Have me, Frenchman. Make me come undone.”


I shed my garments, standing over him. Then, I tugged him to his feet, removed his clothing and put him over my shoulder in the same manner he had used in Jamaica. I carried him to bed. Laying him upon the sheets already scented by our passion, I savored his body, playing with him, until he shook almost violently. Then I put him on his knees at the bed’s top.


“Hands on the headboard and keep them there,” I commanded.


He complied at once. The oil remained on the bedside table. I slicked my aching cock, then used my oiled fingers to warm up my lover. His body opened for me. I pressed deep, loving the experience of feeling inside him and hearing him groan and purr at the stimulation. I withdrew, wiped my hand on a sheet and tossed it into the floor. With the acceptance of him and the marble state of my phallus, I did not even need to guide myself into him. My lover welcomed me in a mind-numbing clasp.


I put one hand on his hip, the other on his shoulder and buried myself. “Merde.”


He made a half-strangled sound of pleasure. “I want it hard.”


“Mon plaisir, mon amour.”

I fucked him with all the ravenous corporal hunger he evoked in me. I saw his knuckles whiten from his grip on the headboard and the animal vocalizations he made caused me to run almost mad. Taking my hand from his hip, I leaned forward and reached to squeeze his cock. He swelled and jerked in my grasp. I saw his semen erupt with enough force to pelt the wall behind the bed and I exploded into flame-hot orgasm.

#

That evening, James and Gamboa invited us to go drinking. Walks Softly obviously saw my interest and accepted for us both. We went downstairs and met our confederates. They had clearly already started.

We walked to a place christened The Pliant Maid. It smelled of rum, guttering candles and lamp oil in here. Better than most drinking houses, I felt certain. Murmurs abounded. Whether at the sight of a man so large as James, or the red savage in our midst, I knew not. We located a table in a dim corner.

A buxom bar wench sauntered over, batting her khol-darkened lashes at us. “’Ere be a batch o’ virile bucks. What can I fetch ye?”

“When in Rome,” Gamboa quipped.

“Aye,” James agreed. “Rum all round.”

We drank for some time. James and Gamboa flirted with some of the ‘soiled doves’, flattering the meeker, plainer among the bunch. I chuckled mightily as they pretended a dispute over a particularly mousy little woman. She blushed and preened under their polite and gentlemanly attention.

I liked the fact they possessed enough character to do such a thing purely to fuel her confidence. It caused me to again raise my estimation.

I noticed my indian drank little. “Do you wish some other libation?”

“Nay.” He reached under the table to rub my thigh. “I am not much on recreational drinking.”

“Do I upset you?” If I did I would happily cease.

“Not at all,” he replied. “It is a personal preference. You drink as much as you wish.”

I did. So did Gamboa and James. Within a few hours we had become drunk as lords.

An extremely smelly man appeared at my side. I put my hand under my nose. Looking up at him, I cringed. He wore little more than ragged shreds for garments and all bore oily marks of soiling by sweat and spoiled food “Sir, you offend.”

“The offense is havin’ a heathen devil in a white man’s establishment.”

James and I shoved back our chairs to stand.

James said, “That heathen is my brother. Apologize and I shall let you live.”

The tavern quieted as attention turned to the dispute. From somewhere off to our right, a slurred voice called, “The red heathens practice all manner of murderous evils.”

I shouted, “Let any who desire to add their disapproval of our friend, speak now.”

A pewter tankard sailed to clank against the wall behind us. Indistinct rumbling rippled through the dim tavern. I exchanged glances with James.

He downed his rum, smashed his ceramic tankard on the table, then rather leapt across to slit the man’s throat.

The tavern erupted into violence. Gamboa upended our table to heft and throw it at a wave of attackers. I beat down opponents with anything available: bottles, chairs, candle sticks, jugs, my fists. At one point I found myself covered by Walks Softly as he used that Eastern weaponless fighting technique with much effectiveness. I staggered to the bar and leaned over. The man previously doling out vice had crouched behind.

“Hand me that rum, mate.”

He groped about, lifted up the jug of rum. I turned it up, swallowed several times, then brought it down over the head of a sailor about to hit my lover from behind.

After a particularly brutal tiff with some odoriferous individual, I realized the place had grown quiet. I dropped the chair I had used and turned. My companions stood watching. We alone remained upright.

I staggered back a step. “It appears, mon freres, we have won the day. Rather, evening.”

The floor of the establishment shifted aggressively and I found myself lying flat, having an undesired view of the rafters in the ceiling.


CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“Scrotum du Diable.” I hesitated to open my eyes. Already the light pained them. What manner of evil illumination waited to torment me? Slowly, I lifted my dry lids and squinted. A dull ache made a jagged streak through my skull. I lie naked upon the bed. Walks Softly stood at the small table where we took our meals, mixing a pitcher of something that steamed. I caught the smell of brewed tea and peppermint just before detecting the most malodorous cloud lingering in the air. “Mon Dieu. What is that odious stench?”

Without looking at me, he replied, “That would be you, Frenchman.”

Even as the horror of realization gripped me, a knock announced a parade of maids arrived with a tub and buckets of obviously hot water. I pulled a bed linen over my groin to prevent shocking them. I held the fabric to me as I brought myself upright and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. I put my bare feet upon the cool wood floor. As the maids made much industry with their work, I braced my elbows upon my thighs and laid my abused head in my hands.

Indistinct memories of the previous night assaulted me. I recalled the fighting, and the tavern’s treacherous slanting that felled me. Licking my lips, I asked, “What happened after we vanquished the hairy unwashed?”

My lover ceased mixing his brew, poured a cup and brought it to me. “Sip this.” He stroked my face. “After I rather peeled you up from the sticky floor, my brother, Diego and you glanced about at the tavern and decided you should drink to honor the fallen.”

Snippets flitted beyond recall. I sipped the tea laced with mint. My stomach welcomed it. “That honoring of the fallen in drink seems ill-advised.”

He gave a short bark of mirth. “You have no idea, my love.”

The maids finished and filed out. I heard the door close and Walks Softly went to turn the key. I raised my head. I felt distanced and fragile. My lover returned to aid me in rising. Chagrined, I whispered, “I hate it you see me so soiled.”

At that he laughed fully. “James has already returned his imbibed liquids upon my feet and Diego had to entrust his weight to my strength getting him to the chamber pot for a piss.” As he helped me into the tub, he relieved me of the cup and added, “Your dignity remains somewhat intact, Etienne.”

I settled myself, groaning at the heat of the water. My lover handed me the tea. I felt compelled to say, “You are too good to me, mon bon sauvage.”

“Have your tea. Then, I shall wash you.”

Allowing the warmth to soothe me, I queried, “However did you return us here last night?”

“I hired a wagon, toted your knackered asses out and stacked you in the back like wood.”

I chuckled and took the tea in increments. It tasted nice and settled my roiling belly. Luxuriating in the comforts, I experienced a sharp moment of reality. “Walks Softly?”

He turned from his task of bundling my dirty garments for the laundry. “Aye?”

“You are a treasure beyond estimation.”

He inclined his head like a courtier accepting of just due. “See you recall it.”

#

After his serving of tea and drawing of poison righted me, we went for a long walk in the heat. We ate midday meal in a small seaside shack that served the most remarkable fried oysters. We ate them with our fingers, washed them down with watered beer and enjoyed ourselves.

#

That evening, we returned to our room. I, much restored by my lover’s tonic, began to think carnal thoughts.

I cleaned my teeth, freshened myself and sat to watch my savage. He moved about in his graceful rhythm, hypnotizing with his domestic grace.

At last, I could not resist. I walked to him, stepping up at his back and placing my hand over his throat. Tilting back his head, I murmured, “I want to have you again.”

He melted against me. “In your language, sil vous plait.”

I helped him finish his self-imposed chores. Then I removed our garments and backed him to the table. It groaned under his weight. I departed to fetch sweet oil, then arranged him to suit myself. Walks Softly’s big erection bucked. I slicked myself, lifted his legs over my shoulders and pushed inside his hot body.

Walks Softly, growled and arched.

Excited beyond inhibition, I leaned down, taunted, “You must be tender from my ramming you yester morning, mon bon sauvage.”

“Aye.”

Hands traveling over his body in a proprietary fashion, I enjoyed him. My hips slammed his. I enjoyed seeing his erection bounce from the force. Then I gripped his cock and devoted myself to opening his ass and jerking him to climax.

#

The following morning, Walks Softly took me to view the sunrise on a fairly unpopulated beach. I stood there thinking how ignorant I had remained before I met my lover and learned what living meant.

Walks Softly clasped hands with me. I brought our joined hands to my mouth and kissed the back of his. “I love you.”


CHAPTER NINETEEN
Our final day of liberty dawned a bit overcast and unseasonably cool. As men of the sail, we wondered at conditions for departure the following morrow. With naught to do save watch and wait, we resolved to make the most of our final day. Gamboa and James remained in their respective rooms, behind closed portals with their courtesans. I passed the latter’s door on my way to the stairs and chuckled. Female cries of pleasure echoed even out in the hall. Perhaps the ladies should return his coin with additional financial consideration given in light of their enjoyment.

I ordered a particularly tasty thing they offered all day: crusty bread sliced, spread with butter, layered with ham and sharp cheese, and then baked again in a brick oven. In answer to my request, the kitchen staff brewed a fresh pot of tea, provided a bucket of very expensive ice, a small tart made with cocoa and sweet custard, and the delicious bread with toppings.

I returned upstairs to find my indian quite naked, limbering himself in flexibility exercises upon the floor. “Mon Dieu!” I kicked the door closed and rushed to heavily place the tray upon the small table. “Ayez la pitié.”

He smiled at me. “Something about having pity.” Flipping his braided hair out of the way, he put his legs together before him, kept them straight and leaned forward to place his hands around the bottoms of his feet and press his head to his knees.

I felt a trifle swimmy in the head.

#
We rented horses and went riding, exploring the island. An odd place, it boasted most of the industry and residences in the harbor town. Over the remainder of the island, infrequent, but rich aristocratic plantations sat upon fertile land. We kept up a continuous discussion about everything that entered our minds. As we cantered along a stretch of open land, our mounts abreast, my indian tucked his leathers into his right hand and extended his other hand to me. I already carried mine in my left, and reached out to twine my fingers with my lover’s.

It struck me as intensely intimate. Again, I marveled at my vast good fortune to find the other half of my soul.

#

After returning the mounts, we repaired to the inn to bathe. My lover shaved the stubble from my face as we occupied the same tub. As it so often happened with him, the mundane became exotic and erotic. By such time as he finished, my cock had formed a marble pillar in the warm water.

I stared at him, attempting to decide what deity I had pleased.

#

Time for the evening repast arrived.
My indian sat reading a local publication concerning news. I looked to him. He relaxed in one of the deep chairs, dressed as a white man of aristocratic birth. His inky, shiny hair resided in a sedate club at the base of his muscular neck. Yet, feathers and beads in a small braid at his nape and lying over his shoulder decried civilization.

How could I not want him above all others?

“I feel that consideration, Frenchman.”

Smiling and walking from where I had previously observed the throughfare below, I replied, “I would like to dine out this evening.”

My lover then lifted his black gaze. “I shall enjoy where ever you decide to frequent.”

We departed, going to an inn titled Full Trencher. Inside a lovely woman I had toted off to bed many times greeted us.

“Etienne, Noelle will be so glad to see you.”
I cringed. Noelle and I shared history I wished to steer clear of, and yet, as my lover and I settled ourselves into a corner table, the woman arrived in all her flamboyant splendor. Black-haired and blue-eyed, she wore a red gown in the latest fashion and all but attacked me.

“Etienne!”

I pulled back, averse to embracing her.

Walks Softly made a primitive warning noise that drew her notice.

She glanced from him to me. “Etienne, you stallion. My husband has sailed to England. Come back to my house and we shall enjoy weeks of pleasure.”

Walks Softly spoke in a hush. “He is spoken for, madam.”

She returned in an outraged, screeching pitch, “Who is this heathen to address me so familiar?”

My lover’s black eyes fixed her in their vise-like power. His lips drew back from his white teeth like a wolf’s might. “Hiiisssssssssttttttt.”

Noelle fled with the haste one might expect of a Catholic with Lucifer at their coattails.

I laughed. “Perhaps we should return to the inn.”

#

Meal and more ice ordered, we ate then settled in for the night.

After we dined, stripped, we played a bit with our goblets of iced tea. Of a sudden, my lover’s mien changed. He moved me to the floor atop a bed linen, brought ice with him.

“Might I assume you intend some sexual mayhem, indian?”

He purred. “Lace your hands beneath your nape and do not move them else.”

I obeyed. He then took chips to smooth over my belly and legs, allowing them to melt and chasing the rivulets with his hot, velvety tongue. The icy trails heightened my sensual perception. I lifted my hands, recalled the edict and again put my hands under my head.

My lover plucked up a piece of ice. He lifted it to my lips and I flicked my tongue at it. He slid it down my neck to my chest and ruthlessly teased my nipples. I wished to reach out, yet honored the lover’s covenant between us. “Sil vous plait, indian. Already you have me.”

My lover took a larger bit of ice and traced it over my jerking erection. I roared. After which, he reached for the scented oil.

“What sensual mayhem do you concoct?”

My indian slicked his big erection. He rubbed his oily fingers over the ice and I began to understand what he intended. “Mon Dieu!”
Walks Softly gently pushed that bit of frozen water into me. The instant cold made me squirm against the direct stimulation. He entered a moment later and I knew I would peak in moments. He thrust in me, allowing that cold star in me to move up and down. First up, followed by his comparatively scorching-hot phallus. Then back, following in the heated wake of his cock in an icy slide.

“Mon bon sauvage!,” I exclaimed, undone, climaxing violently. Semen spurted over my head and shoulders.

Walks Softly erupted inside me, melting the ice and causing me to feel quite woozy.


CHAPTER TWENTY

The following morrow we woke, bathed and broke our fast, Walks Softly again wore the raiment of a gentleman. With exception of his braided hair studded with beads, and his exotic beauty, he looked quite the image of a wealthy merchant seaman.

Servants took our chests to the harbor. I finished shaving, washed my face and packed my valise of personal items. Standing at the window, I observed the road below. The nape of my neck prickled and I turned. My indian had that intense gaze fixed upon me. He closed the distance between us with his long strides. My heart turned an acrobat’s feat in my chest.

“What are you about, mon amour?”

He hauled me into his arms for a kiss of pure possession. Barely lifting his mouth from mine, he growled. “I am going to give you something to carry with you, Frenchman, to remind you why you desire only me.”

He bore me to the wood floor. I resisted, feeling a bit thin-skinned at my own addiction to him. His Herculean strength at once excited and angered me. Despite my resistance, in moments, I lie immobile under him. He managed to reach under and open my breeches, then hauled them down until the air touched even my thighs. He maneuvered me up onto my knees, shoving my chest to the planking. My cock had already swelled so stiff it almost burned.
I felt him undo his own breeches and drag my valise close. In his very effective restraint, I could not move. “You barbaric heathen,” I hissed, beyond reason with lust and anger, cheek pressed to the cool floor.
“You’re about to take heathen cock, Frenchman.”
I tried to refuse him entry on principle. His oiled fingers probed and pressed until I opened against my will. Libidinous delight spread through my blood. I dragged much-needed air into lungs, attempted further resistance. The indian shut down all physical rebellion and his fingers tormented that sensitive bit inside me that had no care or pride. Hearing my own cries, I hated my vulnerability.
His fingers withdrew and the wide blunt tip of his erection pressed passed the threshold of my body. “Take it, Frenchman.”
A guttural exclamation tore from me. His erection seemed huge enough to split me in half, yet seductive, intense pleasure ripped me instead. “Mon bon sauvage,” I rasped.
“Who is tender from the last ramming now?”
I accepted the return of my taunt as I did his phallus inside me. Repeating his words, I murmured, “Have me. Make me break apart.”
He released his restraint and held me as a lover. I remained in the position he had forced me into, now completely willing and wanting.
“Etienne, my love.” His body invaded mine, cautious and palpably reverent.
Reaching back, I whispered, “Tell me.”
He thrust inside me, large and demanding, sweet and considerate. “I love you.”
My climax began to rake down my spine to make my ballocks ache. “Touch me, sil vous plait.” He gripped my jerking erection. I gasped and cursed.
“Let me feel your orgasm,” he entreated. “I long for your hot semen in my hand.”
Obligingly I spurted into his clasp and he then shoved so deep in me, I experienced a second wave of climax.

#
We loaded the ships and I rowed out to the Cleopatra. My tender backside spread the ache to my chest. My love would remain beyond my reach for some time.

#

We sailed to St. Augustine. Castillo de San Marco’s troops greeted us. Because our identity outside the law could not find confirmation, we supplied our ships and departed on the next tide. From there, we attacked a British slaver en route to New Providence.

#

A month of ambushes and attacks occurred. In all the frays, I could find no way to reunite with my lover. Several tormented meetings over wounded men spawned heated gazes and lingering touches. Yet no corporal joining.

Finally, James dispatched his bother with me on a personal errand to check intelligence concerning his kidnap target.

My indian boarded my ship like an aggressor, swinging on a rigging rope to land on my deck. We observed protocols until dark. I sent my cabin lad out to liberty, then paced my cabin. Soon a soft knock sounded. I strode to yank wide the portal.

“Etienne,” he growled.

“Walks Softly,” I murmured. Slamming the portal closed, I fumbled to secure the lock.

We landed on the floor, ripping laces and popping buttons as we swallowed one another’s mouths and jerked each other to peak. I shook all over as I crawled down to kiss his softening phallus.

He groaned. “Let us to bed.”

Stripping each other of remaining garb, we repaired to my bed. His hot, smooth skin against mine sent me rabid with lust. “Take me in your mouth, mon amour.”

He did, using his tongue as lethal weapon. Then, he lifted his head. “I need you inside me.”

We shared a moment of vulnerable brotherhood. I laid him upon my bed, turning him onto his back. Oiling my eager cock, I then washed my hands and allowed the rigidity of my penis and his welcoming body to see me sunk deep.

We held each other tight, confessed love and desire, touched and tasted as much as possible.


CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Very late that night, after a shared bath and brandy, we returned to bed. Many lamps and candles cast flickering illumination. My lover rolled atop me, kissing me, using that velvety tongue of his with mind-numbing skill. He raked his short nails lightly over my chest, tormenting my nipples, then over my contracting belly muscles. His mouth left mine and he scooted lower. I rolled half up from the mattress as he took me into his mouth.

Sinking my hands into his silky hair, I groaned. Potent carnal delight whipped through me. “So many nights,” I murmured, “I laid awake burning for that.” I watched him lavish attention upon my cock, then jerked as he drew hard upon me. “Had the Devil presented himself with a bargain for it, I would have gladly exchanged my immortal soul for a few moments in your mouth.” Mon Dieu. The sight of him doing it made my ballocks ache.

He released me to press his lips just below the crown of my erection and thrum that fragile, almost-too sensitive bridge of skin with his tongue. “I would not share you, Etienne. Even with the white man’s Lucifer. I would follow him to his fiery domain and take back what belongs to me.” My breath rushed out in a long hiss. The he took me in his big, dark hand and squeezed. “I shall drain you dry before dawn, Frenchman.”

“And I you.” I moved him off me with reluctance and went to locate impromptu bindings. I returned. He lie there, big, wide erection jerking upon his muscle-ridged belly. My own bucked looking at him. During a ride on Porto Blanco, my indian had told me about a particular bit of deviancy he enjoyed. I intended to give him an experience with it that would obliterate all in the past.

“You wish to restrain me?” The question emerged thick with arousal.

“Oiu.”

He allowed me to tie him spread-eagle upon the bed. When I lifted the fat hours candle from its anchored dish, he made a rumbling sound in his wide chest that made my heart twist. I walked to the bed’s edge, sat there beside him and held the candle over him. Very slowly, I tilted it, allowing a few drips of the abundant molten wax puddle to fall upon his ribs.

My indian growled and strained against his bonds.

I rained down the hot liquid with much precision, hitting his belly a bit, then his powerful thighs, before I let a little drip onto one of his flat, copper-tinted nipples. He flexed all over. The bed creaked mightily and pre-orgasm fluid steadily flowed from him. His hot black gaze tracked the candle in my grasp as I moved it over his rampant phallus. Letting a single drop fall to his cock, I watched him shudder and his eyes roll back and close in pleasure.

I could bear no more. I returned the candle to its place, slicked my erection, hastily washed my hands before retrieving the candle. “Keep still,” I commanded. I pushed inside him, braced my weight on one stiffened arm, and held the candle with the other hand. Cautious, yet blazing with lust myself, I pressed the length of me deep into him. I dripped little bits of hot wax onto his pelvis, cock and ballocks. His body began to clench around me. I realized he would climax. Giving him a few more droplets of the wax, I dropped the candle to the floor, uncaring of the mess.

I thrust twice, roughly and hungrily. His peak exploded from him, striking the wall behind his head. My semen burst from me in lightning-like waves. I collapsed atop him for a moment. Sweat and cooling wax stuck our skin together. Hands trembling, I untied him. We curled upon our sides facing each other, arms under one another’s heads, our other arms before us, fingers entwined, legs tangled and faces pressed close.

“I shall change the linens and see to us in a moment,” he whispered.

Both of us trembled violently. Moments passed. Something humorous occurred. Again, my lover’s semen awaited wiping from a wall. “Mon bon sauvage, how many times do you suppose we shall paint our surroundings with the evidence of our fulfilled passion?”

Eyes yet closed, he smiled.

#

Sunrise streaked the dark purple-blue sky with gold and peach. It cast a warm glow in through the reinforced windows of my cabin. My lover and I stood helping each other into our garments amid much kissing. We checked weaponry as a habit.

For long moments after all had seen proper attention, we but clasped hands and stared into each other’s eyes. Then, we held each other tight. My throat closed with emotion, I had to swallow several times before I could speak. “Know you carry my heart with you, Walks Softly.”

“And you mine, Etienne.”

#

I returned to the Vengeance with my indian and we went to James’ quarters. He sat at his desk, charts and ledgers spread before him. His pleasure at sight of his brother faded a trifle when his gaze lit upon me. Politely, he rose and inclined his head. “Captain.”

I returned the greeting, then said, “It is my opinion we should go see this informant of yours about the intended mark. He is a slippery individual who might forget his fear in the face of greed.”

James returned, “You are telling me he might sell me out to the Navy in a double-cross?”

“Aye, sir.”

“Then we must pay a call to this potential turncoat.”

#
We sailed to the Bahamas and our first day in port went to see James’ shifty snitch, Padriac O’Malley. We found him in a tavern so rank with the stink of urine and unwashed bodies I could not breath through my nose and dared not through my mouth. As a result, I grabbed the shady git and dragged him out into the street before my confederates could do aught. Feeling stronger in the clear air, I struck him in the face, then hauled him by his coat lapels to look in my eyes.

“I know your mind, Irishman, you do your countrymen disservice in representation.” Noting his mien of terror, I shook the rat like a terrier might. “Recall my face do you seek additional intrigue.”

“Y-yessir,” he stammered.

I released him and he dropped in a seemingly boneless heap upon the filthy street. Grimacing, I turned from the sight. “Mon Dieu.”