Donald: Pirates of Britannia Connected World (Sons of Sagamore Book 3) Read online

  Donald

  Sons of Sagamore

  A Pirates of Britannia World Novel

  Ruth A. Casie

  Copyright © 2020 Ruth A. Casie

  Kindle Edition

  This work was made possible by a special license through the Pirates of Britannia Connected World publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by DragonMedia Publishing, Inc. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original Pirates of Britannia connected series by Kathryn Le Veque and Eliza Knight remain exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Kathryn Le Veque and/or Eliza Knight, or their affiliates or licensors. All characters created by the author of this novel remain the copyrighted property of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to similarly named places or to persons living or deceased is unintentional.

  Published by DragonMedia, Inc.

  Pirates of Britannia novels by Ruth A. Casie

  The Pirate’s Jewel

  The Pirate’s Redemption

  Hugh

  Graham

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Pirates of Britannia novels by Ruth A. Casie

  The Legend of the Pirates of Britannia

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  The Legend of the Pirates of Britannia

  In the year of our Lord 854, a wee lad by the name of Arthur MacAlpin set out on an adventure that would turn the tides of his fortune, for what could be more exciting than being feared and showered with gold?

  Arthur wanted to be king. A sovereign as great as King Arthur, who came hundreds of years before him. The legendary knight who was able to pull a magical sword from stone, met ladies in lakes, and vanquished evil with a vast following who worshipped him. But while that King Arthur brought to mind dreamlike images of a roundtable surrounded by chivalrous knights and the ladies they romanced, MacAlpin wanted to summon night terrors from every babe, woman and man.

  Aye, MacAlpin, king of the pirates of Britannia would be a name most feared. A name that crossed children’s lips when the candles were blown out at night. When a shadow passed over a wall, was it the pirate king? When a ship sailed into port in the dark hours of night, was it him?

  As the fourth son of the conquering Pictish King Cináed, Arthur wanted to prove himself to his father. He wanted to make his father proud, and show him that he, too, could be a conqueror. King Cináed was praised widely for having run off the Vikings, for saving his people, for amassing a vast and strong army. No one would dare encroach on his conquered lands when they would have to face the end of his blade.

  Arthur wanted that, too. He wanted to be feared. Awed. To hold his sword up and have devils come flying from the tip.

  So, it was on a fateful summer night in 854 that, at the age of ten and nine, Arthur amassed a crew of young and roguish Picts and stealthily commandeered one of his father’s ships. They blackened the sails to hide them from those on watch and began an adventure that would last a lifetime and beyond.

  The lads trolled the seas, boarding ships and sacking small coastal villages. In fact, they even sailed so far north as to raid a Viking village in the name of his father. By the time they returned to Oban, and the seat of King Cináed, all of Scotland was raging about Arthur’s atrocities. Confused, he tried to explain, but his father would not listen, and would not allow him back into the castle.

  King Cináed banished his youngest son from the land, condemned his acts as evil, and told him he never wanted to see him again.

  Enraged and experiencing an underlying layer of mortification, Arthur took to the seas, gathering men as he went, and building a family he could trust that would not shun him. They ravaged the sea as well as the land—using his clan’s name as a lasting insult to his father for turning him out.

  The legendary Pirate King was rumored to be merciless, the type of vengeful pirate who would drown a babe in his mother’s own milk if she didn’t give him the pearls at her neck. But with most rumors, they were mostly steeped in falsehoods meant to intimidate. In fact, there may have been a wee boy or two he saved from an untimely fate. Whenever they came across a lad or lass in need, as Arthur himself had once been, they took them into the fold.

  One ship became two. And then three, four, five, until a score of ships with blackened sails roamed the seas.

  These were his warriors. A legion of men who adored him, respected him, followed him, and, together, they wreaked havoc on the blood ties that had sent him away. And generations upon generations, country upon country, they spread far and wide until people feared them from horizon to horizon. Every pirate king to follow would be named MacAlpin, so his father’s banishment would never be forgotten.

  Forever lords of the sea. A daring brotherhood, where honor among thieves reigns supreme, and crushing their enemies is a thrilling pastime.

  These are the pirates of Britannia, and here are their stories…

  Chapter One

  Châlons-sur-Marne, France

  July 1289

  Lord Donald Eden enjoyed his years of being responsible only for himself. With a casual personality and playful teasing manner, men and women were drawn to him like bees to a honeypot. Unlike his brothers who preferred swords, he excelled with the bow and arrow. He traveled from one archery tournament to the next coming away with a heavy purse.

  That was, until last year – when his brother Hugh, the Earl of Sagamore, brought his fiancée Charlotte to the tournament field.

  Lifting his goblet, he chuckled and remembered the contest.

  By god’s toes, she was an excellent archer even though he came away with a light purse.

  With her shoes off, Charlotte stood at the line and released her bolt. Her arrow hit the center of the target, but she needed to do the same with her second shot.

  Donald took another sip of wine and let out another snicker.

  Charlotte needed a miracle to win. People pounded his back in anticipation of his victory. Men hawked the odds. The betting became fierce. Once she took her stance and planted her toes firmly in the ground, she pulled her bow and let the bowstring sing. The arrow flew and slid down the center of her first bolt, slicing it in two. The onlookers burst into cheers. The swell of excitement took his breath away and he cheered for her as loud as the thrilled crowd.

  Now Donald was at the chateau on the grounds of the Labatrelle Winery with his older brothers, Hugh and Graham, and their wives, Charlotte and Isabella, as well as Isabella’s mother Jeanne Marie. They sat in the solar around the hearth on chairs and benches scattered with comfortable pillows.

  Too warm for a fire at this time of year, garden flowers filled the grate and perfumed the air with a subtle fragrance. Large windows flanked the hearth with a wonderful view of the vineyard and the Marne River beyond.

  The pleasant room also had floor
to ceiling bookcases along two adjacent walls, with a desk in front. A long, narrow table laid with wine decanters and goblets stood against the third wall. Above the table was a tapestry of the vineyard.

  He observed his brothers and their families. Every so often someone burst into laughter. At other times, the women spoke only to each other, much to their husbands’ mock irritation. So much had changed over the last year.

  After laying vacant for decades, the earldom had been restored to his oldest brother. Hugh had a successful investment business and was one of the wealthiest men in England.

  His brother, Graham, assisted Hugh and Charlotte with issues here at Charlotte’s childhood home. Together with Isabella, the love of Graham’s life, things were set right at the winery.

  Donald lifted the goblet to his lips, savoring the rich, fruity wine and shifted his gaze to Graham.

  Working together, Graham and Isabella had developed this new, unique wine that won prizes and was in high demand.

  In one year, everyone’s life had changed. His as well. No more tournaments. Although archery was his passion, there was no longer any time to enjoy the sport, especially the competitions.

  Initially, he worked with Hugh’s partner, John Heustis, to resolve the issues concerning the vacant earldom. Much to his surprise, and everyone else’s, he had a knack for working with people. Hugh and John gave him a share of the business.

  What had Graham said at Hugh and Charlotte’s wedding? His brow wrinkled as he searched his mind. Words flashed by until one fell into place. Destiny. Destiny made them brothers; fate made them friends. That was the truth. The three of them had a bond the King of England envied.

  Donald’s last task before he returned to England was to arrange a meeting for Hugh. His brother’s longtime friend and business associate, Claude DuClare was traveling with his niece from Troye to Paris. When Hugh mentioned he and Charlotte would be in France, DuClare suggested they meet at the winery.

  “You are deep in thought.” Hugh stood before him and poured more wine into his goblet.

  “Me? I do not have a deep thought in my body.” Donald took a sip of wine. “This is a tasty vintage.”

  “Of course you don’t.” An innocent smile spread across Hugh’s face.

  “Excuse me m’lord.” A servant stood at the threshold. “Monsieur DuClare and his niece, Mademoiselle Andrea Ricard.”

  “Hugh,” DuClare said as he walked into the solar, a striking woman at his side.

  The close friends embraced. “I’m glad you could join us here. Let me introduce you to my wife, Charlotte, Graham’s wife, Isabella, and her grandmother, Jeanne Marie.”

  “A pleasure to meet you.” After a short bow to the ladies, he turned to Graham and Donald. “Good to see you gentlemen.”

  “I’d like to introduce you to my niece, Andrea Ricard.” DuClare indicated the woman at his side.

  “Mademoiselle.” Both brothers dipped their heads in acknowledgement.

  “Come. Sit. Some wine?” Donald offered, but didn’t wait for a response. He poured two goblets and handed them to their guests.

  “Donald mentioned you were coming from Troyes,” Hugh said. “I hope business went well.”

  “I was not there on business. Andrea was.” DuClare savored the wine.

  Donald had been staring at the girl over the rim of his goblet, unable to take his eyes from her. Her features were appealing, but not overly striking. She carried herself with assurance. Her expression was pleasant, and her eyes were alive with intelligence as she scanned the room, taking everything in.

  “And what business is that?” Donald said, his voice warm and low.

  “Donald, stop being so, so… Donald.” Charlotte turned toward Andrea. “Don’t pay any attention to him. He really is quite likeable once you get to know him. How long will you be staying in Châlons?”

  “Andrea and I leave for Paris tomorrow. I would much rather stay here. However, John and I are scheduled to meet with the minister of trade,” DuClare said.

  Claude and Andrea joined the others in a pleasant conversation. Donald was impressed the way Andrea joined the chatter and quickly became part of the group. She debated her position with enthusiasm. Most women, except his sisters-in-law, yielded to the perceived authority whether they believed them or not. Confidence shone through every action, everything she said. He knew there was something special about her the moment their eyes met, and he wanted to learn more.

  “Please.” Everyone turned to Hugh. He held his goblet out, took a hearty drink, then raised his goblet high. “To Isabella and Graham and their winning wine.”

  “To Isabella and Graham,” everyone said in unison.

  “This exceptional wine deserved to win the Battle of the Wines. You surpassed Maurice’s secret blend.” Hugh took another swallow.

  “Who is Maurice?” Andrea asked.

  “My grand-père created a unique wine by blending it with fruit and herbs. No one could match it,” Charlotte said. “He taught me and Isabella everything we know about wine and many more things.”

  “Are you sisters?” Andrea asked.

  “Now we are,” Isabella said as she smiled at Charlotte. “I’ve been her companion since we were young girls. We did everything together.”

  “Maurice trained Charlotte. She’s an excellent archer,” Isabella said. “We both listened to him tell us about his adventures in Tunis during the Crusades. Many times, his stories proved his point about one thing or another: archery, wine, or life. The stories I liked most were the ones about the items he brought back from the Holy Land: holy relics and the recipe for blending wine.”

  Chapter Two

  Tunis? From the Holy Land? Andrea’s ears perked. That explained some of the lovely items that decorated the room. She had no doubt about their authenticity and hoped for an opportunity to examine each one.

  “What types of things did your grandfather bring back?” Andrea set the goblet down, the wine forgotten as she waited for Charlotte to respond.

  “All you have to do is glance around the room.” Donald put his goblet down and rose. Stepping in front of her, he extended his hand.

  Andrea looked into his eyes. She couldn’t help but notice him when she and her uncle entered. His brothers were dark haired, but Donald was blond and inviting. His eyes held a bit of mischief she found enticing. Andrea rose and placed her hand on his arm. Donald maneuvered her toward the shelf and handed her an ivory carving.

  The piece was made of two elephant tusks that were split, delicately carved, and embedded with semi-precious stones. Metal rings joined the two pieces.

  “This is a book cover. These are the holes where the cover attached to the binding.” She handled the piece with care and showed Donald.

  “I had no idea. The piece was a gift to my grand-père from the Templars for his service in Tunis,” Charlotte said, looking at the precious cover.

  “If you are patient, my niece can tell you the place the carving came from and the year it was made.” DuClare sat with the others, his chest puffed out.

  “I am only a scholar interested in the investigation and research of antiquities,” she said, returning the cover to its place on the shelf.

  “Andrea is too modest,” DuClare said. “She is an expert who is sought after by many to verify their treasures.”

  “You have my thanks, Uncle. You are my best defender.”

  Donald leaned close to her. “A book cover. We found the item hidden away in a decorated box in a secret room.”

  Did he really expect her to accept that story? A mysterious box hidden in a secret room. She wasn’t easily deceived and had to control herself not to laugh.

  “You doubt me. I suppose you give me no choice but to prove myself.”

  He went to the other bookcase, opened a small door, and put in his hand. Moments later she heard a soft click and jumped when the cabinet moved. Donald swung the furniture on its hinges and revealed the secret room.

  “M’lady.” Donal
d bowed and ushered her inside.

  The man had an I-told-you-so look in his eyes and a delightful smirk on his lips that, for a moment, demanded to be kissed.

  Andrea came to a halt and blinked a few times, shocked at the very idea.

  “Is something wrong?” He leaned close. “The darkness perhaps?” The concern on his face touched her and having his full attention made her self-conscious. She tempered her reaction and gave him more thought.

  “Not at all.”

  Donald, a man not to be overlooked in a crowd, moved with a commanding grace. He was handsome with a boyish appearance. His garments fit him well, emphasized his broad shoulders and trim waist. Although the clothes suited him, Andrea had the impression he was more comfortable in casual attire.

  The nearly dark room did make her anxious, not that she would admit it, but her curiosity pushed her to stretch and peer inside. She startled when Donald lit a candle on the table near the door, then led her over the threshold.

  As they walked inside, the candlelight spread and revealed a small, wood-paneled room. Andrea’s eyes skittered from one place to another as she tried to take in the surroundings all at once. Her gaze landed on tapestries of Templar knights hanging over decorative chests on two walls. Bows and swords in a vee-shaped pattern were on the other two walls. A lone chair stood next to the table in the center of the room, a decorative box the only adornment on the table.

  “The two chests contain the belongings of Crusaders, Templar Knights. Maurice was close to many of the warriors. These items were important to them and when they fell, they didn’t want them touched by the nonbeliever. Maurice promised to take them with him.” Donald took a small, ornate box out of one of the chests, opened it, and showed her rings, bracelets, even a lock of hair.

  Andrea examined the treasures closely while he went on. These had sentimental value but were nothing of any worth. With the reverence due them, she returned them to the box.