Fernsby exhaled and unfurled a piece of parchment. Clearing his throat, he began to read:
“?‘Sir, the man standing before you, your loyal subject Captain Lucas Michael Bannock, is nothing short of a national hero.’?”
Oh for God’s sake, Luke thought.
“?‘He has, to my witness, demonstrated honor, and valor, and prodigious courage under the most violent of aggressions. Accounts of his bravery and fierceness have been, I’m proud to report, no exaggeration.’?”
Getting on with it, Luke sang in his head.
“?‘Mr. Bannock hails from the village of Helford, near Falmouth, in Cornwall,’?” Fernsby read. “?‘A mariner by trade, he’s widely known and well respected in the county, with family ties to the Earl of Canham, also of Cornwall.’?”
Never one to tolerate gross inaccuracies,Luke translated the truth in his head.The man standing impatiently before you is Luke Bannock. If ever he spared a thought for King or Country, it was to evade customs officials. He’s Cornish by birth, a smuggler by trade, and the unacknowledged bastard son of the Earl of Canham’s eldest daughter.He is largelyunknown to the decent people of Cornwall, which is his strong preference.
“?‘Since the early days of fighting French forces in Spain,’?” Fernsby continued, “?‘Mr. Bannock has given his time, resources, property—in fact risked his very life—for the cause of English victory in the Peninsula. Specifically, he’s sailed more than one hundred voyages across the Celtic Sea to deliver War Office dispatches to officers on the battlefield in Northern Spain.’?”
Luke rolled his neck again. Fernsby’s penchant for hyperbole was painful. Why not say what actually happened?Since the early days of fighting in Spain, the Royal Navy has thrown pots of money at Captain Bannock in exchange for his begrudging assistance. When the Navy’s payouts exceeded Luke’s smuggling profits, Bannock agreed to ferry War Office paperwork back and forth to Spain.
“?‘Captaining his own vessel, a thirty-five-foot schooner christenedPhoenix, aided by his loyal crew of twenty-five local men,’?” Fernsby went on, “?‘Captain Bannock has out-sailed, out-fought, or stealthily evaded French warships and blockades, pirates and privateers, winter squalls and summer storms. In so doing, Bannock and his courageous crew established an essential link in the chain of communication between the War Office and military leadership in Spain, thereby saving the lives of countless English fighting men.’?”
Luke blinked, determined to keep his face without expression. Was the repeated reference to his “loyal crew” necessary? They weren’t a single body of mindless loyalists, they were individuals and friends. They were young men who’d signed on for the lucrative work of smuggling brandy and wound up running errands for the king. And drowning for their trouble.
“?‘I’ve had the privilege of serving as War Office attaché on five sailings with Captain Bannock,’?” Fernsby continued. “?‘And I stand here today, a living man and instead of a ghost, because of his actions on our fifth and final sailing. It cannot go unmentioned that while Bannock managed to save my life, all six marines in my detachment and the entirety of his crew was either captured or—’?”
And now Luke stopped translating. The memories poured in, cold and deadly; his lungs constricted and his throat clamped shut. Luke ground his teeth, fighting the urge to walk away from this unnecessary account, from this room, from the palace. Of course he couldn’t go; not if he wanted to acquire the French princess, not if he meant to avenge the ones who did not survive.
“?‘Phoenixwas nimble and quick, cutting a smooth line through heavy fog that night, chased by heavy rains to the west,’?” continued Fernsby. “?‘The sky was moonless and the seas were rough. The low visibility and rising wind worked together to conceal a lurking French lugger calledKersaint. The lugger outgunnedPhoenixand was crewed by double the men. It was under the command of decorated French captain Vincent Surcouf, known also as the Comte d’Moulac.
“?‘We were fifty nautical miles east of the Spanish coast whenKersaintsailed upon us. The French captain brought the lugger close, sliding into place starboard. With no preamble or fight, he demanded our surrender.
“?‘Captain Bannock, as you’ll learn, would sooner die than surrender, and he leaped to action, rallying his gunners. But Surcouf had navigated so close,Phoenix’s guns could not depress to fire. Without the guns, Captain Bannock signaled his crew toboardthe crowding French lugger and go hand-to-hand instead. The crew ofPhoenix—experienced fighters, one and all—scrambled for swords and grapples, but before they could broach the hull ofKersaint, the lugger dropped sail, caught wind, and pulled away, maneuvering backward as quickly as it had come alongside. Before Bannock’s gunners could return to their own guns,Kersaint—now with enough range to fire—let loose a barrage of artillery, firing uponPhoenixat close range. The cannon blast destroyedPhoenix’s foremast and killed half of Bannock’s boarding party. Now dead in the water,Phoenixlisted drunkenly, drawn sideways by its felled mast.
“?‘Before Bannock could secure the mast and drooping sails, Surcouf moved in again, this time to board himself. French sailors swarmedPhoenixwith weapons drawn. Captain Bannock and his crew, along with myself and my marine detachment, took up arms and fought for our lives.
“?‘After a half hour of brutal combat, the French crew, who outnumbered us two-to-one, seized control ofPhoenix. Captives included Bannock, fifteen remaining crewmen, myself and the two surviving marines.
“?‘What happened over the next hours,’?” continued Fernsby, “?‘as the French captain abandoned all rules of engagement and any notion of honor as an officer or a gentleman, can best be described as cruel, and brutal, and torturous. Never in my years—’?”
And here Luke stopped listening. He would not hear it, he would not relive it. He existed inside the churning tomb of angry memories. Fernsby would say the rest of it, no hellish detail left undescribed; and the prince and his council would imagine the horror from the safety of their velvet cushions. The nightmares tonight would be punishing, but Luke would wait for the reward.
Wait for the reward, he repeated in his head. This had become his sole motivation and reason for drawing breath. He need only endure these war stories and tell the prince what he wanted.
“?‘With his boat sinking and his crew dead or captive, Bannock managed to escape into the cold, shark-infested Atlantic Ocean, swimming into the darkness with my unconscious form pressed to his broken shoulder. After two nights of floating aimlessly,’?” Fernsby finally, blessedly, concluded, “?‘Captain Bannock caught sight of HMSTribute, a passing ship of the line, and managed to signal the barrelman. By no small miracle, we were saved. Accounts of Bannock, beaten, bloody, half-frozen and clinging to floating remains ofPhoenix’s mast, have been widely circulated by the crew ofTribute. All of them, I vow to you, are true.
“?‘Just to be clear, sir, not only did Captain Bannock rescue me that night, he safeguarded the War Office dispatch. He refused to return to Cornwall until he saw me revived and the orders delivered to Spain.’?”
And after two nights and a day of treading water,Luke amended,Bannock knew that he would not get paid if Fernsby died before he could recite the precious dispatch to his comrades in Spain. Also, no one would believe what happened without a marine officer to corroborate his story.
“Riveting, Jamie,” Prince George was saying. Fernsby beamed at the praise and glanced conspiratorially at Luke.
“Andthank you, Captain Bannock,” intoned the prince, “for your bravery and selfless effort on behalf of my cousin—and of course the dispatches bound for Spain. We should like to reward you for your service to Crown and Country. Pray, will you say what we might grant you as a token of thanks for your valiant heroism?”
“Highness,” Luke said, bowing curtly. “Thank you.” He cleared his throat. “If it pleases you, I should like to request the hand in marriage of an exiled French princess living under your protection in England these last twenty years. Princess Danielle Allard d’Orleans.”
“So you say,” mused the prince. “I’d been advised that this would be your request. The Orleans name is one I’ve not heard in years, but I remember the lot of them—not Princess Danielle specifically, but the family. There were three Orleans siblings exiling in England after the Revolution, and she was the youngest. My advisors assure me that the princess called Danielle has remained in England. She lives with her surrogate family in a village in Kent and a betrothal can be arranged. Her sister and brother have left royal service and married English citizens. The elder sister actually married a castle retainer—or a glorified guardsman, one might say. He worked as hired muscle for my father. Based on this precedent, I don’t see a problem with the younger one marrying a national hero. Their mother exiled in Spain and has died. Their father was beheaded during the Terror. You marrying her will be a favor to me, honestly. We are long overdue to end our obligation to the Orleans family, and good riddance. But pray, Captain Bannock, will you say why a betrothal—of all things? And whythis girl?”
Luke frowned and glanced at Fernsby. The other man gave him a confident look. Luke turned his attention back to the throne. “I want to marry Princess Danielle,” he said, “because my enemy wants to marry her. If she is married to me, he cannot have her, can he?” It was half of the truth.
“Ah,”said the prince. “And which enemy is that?”
