The Marauder (Pirates of Britannia Book 11) Read online

  The Marauder

  A Pirates of Britannia World Novel

  Anna Markland

  About the Book

  Capitán Santiago Velázquez falls foul of the Spanish Inquisition after a disgruntled lover falsely accuses him of perverse tendencies. Forced to flee to the Americas, he follows in the footsteps of his pirate ancestor, the notorious leader of the Demonios del Mar, and plunders ships the length and breadth of the Spanish Main. Captured by the Spanish governor of Florida in the last days of the Seven Years War with the British, he agrees to attack Royal Navy vessels under the aegis of Letters of Marque. In exchange, he secures a pardon for himself and his crew.

  Valentina Melchor is trapped in St. Augustine with her father, the governor, when Florida is ceded to Britain by the Treaty of Paris.

  The turmoil caused by the end of the war is Santiago’s opportunity to flee, but he risks his life and his ship to rescue Valentina, despite his resolve to never trust a woman again.

  Copyright

  Text copyright by the Author.

  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.

  THE MARAUDER © 2018 Anna Markland. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part or the whole of this book may be reproduced, distributed, transmitted or utilized (other than for reading by the intended reader) in ANY form (now known or hereafter invented) without prior written permission by the author. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal, and punishable by law.

  THE MARAUDER is a work of fiction. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and or are used fictitiously and solely the product of the author’s imagination. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, places, businesses, events or locales is purely coincidental.

  Cover Design by Kim Killion @ The Killion Group, Inc.

  Published by DragonMedia, Inc.

  PO Box 7968

  La Verne CA 91750

  Contents

  Legend of the Pirates of Britannia

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  HISTORICAL FOOTNOTES

  About the Author

  Also by Anna Markland

  Excerpt from THE SEA DEVIL

  Excerpt from SEA WOLFE

  Excerpt from THE RAVISHING REES

  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 would 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….

  “En tu abrazo, yo abrazo todo lo que existe,

  La arena, el tiempo, el árbol de la lluvia.

  Y todo vive para que yo viva,

  Veo en tu vida todo lo viviente.”

  ~Pablo Neruda, Chilean poet and diplomat,

  recipient of the 1971 Nobel Prize in Literature.

/>   “When I hold you, I hold everything that is,

  Sand, time, the tree of the rain.

  Everything is alive so that I can be alive,

  In your life, I see everything that lives.”

  For María Rebecca Velázquez-McIntyre, with my thanks.

  Author’s Note:

  THE WINDWARD PASSAGE

  The colonial territories that serve as the backdrop for my story are geographically very close to each other. The best thing to do while following Captain Santiago’s adventures might be to have a Google Map of the Caribbean handy.

  ~~~

  Chapter One

  ACCUSED

  Sevilla, Andalucía, España, 1760

  “And so you see,” Alonzo Velázquez explained when he reached the end of the tale he’d recounted many times, “our ancestor was a famous Spanish marauder who gave the Pirates of Britannia a run for their money.”

  His guests chuckled politely, as they always did, and raised their sherry glasses. “To Santiago Fernández,” they exclaimed. “Leader of the Demonios del Mar.”

  It wasn’t every Spanish nobleman who boasted openly of pirate ancestors, but Alonzo Velázquez de Vallirana y La Granada was probably the richest man in Sevilla, founding owner of a profitable shipping company trading with Spanish colonies in the Americas.

  Claiming not to care a whit for public opinion, he never failed to mention that his eldest son had been named for the infamous pirate king who’d lived three hundred years before. Like Fernández, Santiago Velázquez had indeed spent most of his life at sea, plying back and forth across the Atlantic in his favorite ship, the Santa María.

  While enjoying the old tales, and proud of his family’s long seafaring history, Santiago considered himself more of a rogue than a pirate. Was he to blame that beautiful women lusted after handsome sea captains, especially ones who stood to inherit a fortune?

  Sometimes it was difficult to keep track of his paramours. He had obviously offended Salomé Mendoza when he’d escorted his current ladylove into his father’s house earlier in the evening. She’d slapped his face and stormed off as if they had some sort of permanent arrangement, which he certainly was unaware of. He racked his brain for something he might have said or done to give her the wrong impression, but couldn’t think of anything.

  Over the years he’d more or less abandoned the youthful notion of someday finding what his father had enjoyed with his late mother—a great love. And Salomé definitely wasn’t a woman he’d want to spend his life with. Beautiful, yes, but also conniving and given to fits of rage. He wasn’t entirely sure how he’d become involved with her in the first place, and resolved to be more careful in future.

  Hours later, when all the guests had left, and his younger brothers and sisters had retired, he and his father sat in the salon, sharing a glass or two of Cuban rum.

  “I apologize for the scene earlier,” he said, genuinely sorry for Salomé’s outburst. His father went to great lengths to ensure his social gatherings went off without a hitch. Instead, the humiliating slap would be the main topic of gossip among Sevilla’s social elite.

  “It will pass,” his father replied. “Everyone knows Salomé takes after her mother.”

  It was a gentle reminder that he was expected to exercise better judgement. It was never wise to alienate families of equal social rank.

  He drained his glass, rose from his chair and bade his father goodnight. “Hopefully, one day I will acquire your wisdom, Papa,” he said before taking his leave.

  Santiago shrugged off the hand shaking him awake. He opened one eye. Why was his valet waking him in the middle of the night? “It’s still dark, go away, Roberto.”

  “Wake up, Santi.”

  He rolled over, startled when he saw his father’s worried face, rendered all the more haggard by the flickering flame of the candle he held. “What’s wrong?”

  “You must go to your ship. Salomé has accused you.”

  He rubbed his eyes and sat up. “Of what?”

  His father sat on the edge of the bed. “Sexual deviance,” he murmured.

  Santiago snorted. He considered himself creative in his lovemaking, but deviant? “She’s off her head,” he replied with a yawn. “I’ll talk to her tomorrow. She’ll calm down.”

  “The constables were already here.”

  “Constables?”

  “From the Suprema.”

  He was tempted to laugh. “What on earth could she accuse me of that would interest the Inquisition?”

  “Sodomy and homosexuality.”

  His blood ran cold. Few men of his age accused of homosexuality escaped the noose, most of them tortured into confessing. Only boys deemed to have been sodomized unwillingly were punished with a whipping. “But you know this isn’t true,” he exclaimed.

  “True or not, you must flee. Sail to Cuba. Lie low. I will send word when it’s safe to come home.”

  He felt the weight of a heavy bag on his legs, and the thunk of a large amount of coin. He looked up at the tears streaming down his father’s face and his heart broke.

  “Take this and go now, my son. I have diverted them, but they will be back.”

  Two hours later, the Santa María was sailing down the Guadalquivir, after a hurried and gut-wrenching farewell. His valet had sobbed almost as much as his wailing sisters. His white-faced brothers had been unable to speak. His father had struggled unsuccessfully not to break down, finally mumbling a reassurance that his sainted mother would watch over him.

  While supplies were being loaded in Cádiz, he explained to the crew that the ship wouldn’t be making the return voyage. They could either stay in Cádiz, return to Spain in another of his father’s ships or start a new life in the Americas with him. It was gratifying that the majority chose to sail with him, not surprising after he distributed some of his father’s coin as an incentive. As he sailed away from his beloved country and everyone he loved and cherished, he doubted his broken heart would ever mend. Never again would he allow a woman to destroy his life.

  Chapter Two

  APPOINTMENT

  Madrid, España, April 1762

  Valentina was so excited, she couldn’t concentrate on her sewing. It was a tiresome pastime she hated, and her father had been expected back from his interview at the Royal Palace hours ago. “Where can he be?” she asked her mother who sat calmly sewing in an armchair.

  “Be patient. He’ll be here soon enough to tell us why he was summoned by the king.”

  “How can you be so calm?” Valentina replied, getting up to pace back and forth in front of the hearty fire in the salon. “Will he be given some sort of appointment? A position at court? An ambassadorship? What?”

  “You’ll wear a path in the carpet,” her mother replied without even looking up from the embroidery.

  Valentina hurried into the foyer upon hearing the front door slam. She knew better than to rush into her father’s embrace. He loved her, of that there was no doubt, but they rarely hugged. It simply wasn’t done among noble Spanish families.

  “That sort of thing is for the French,” her mother often reminded her.

  “I can’t wait to hear your news, Papa,” she babbled, a little concerned that he didn’t seem overly happy.

  He handed her a furled and beribboned parchment. “Hold this for a moment, Querida,” he said.

  She held the document with a reverence worthy of the holy grail while he allowed the valet to take his cloak.

  He pecked a kiss on her forehead, retrieved the parchment, then walked directly into the salon and handed it to her mother.

  She narrowed her eyes and looked up at him before sliding off the ribbon.

  “La Florida,” he rasped.

  The color drained from her mother’s face as she clenched her jaw and threw the parchment to the floor. “No.”

  “I cannot refuse,” he replied, retrieving the document.

  Valentina could stand it no longer. “What? Tell me.”

  “The k
ing has appointed me Governor of La Florida.”

  She struggled to understand as her mother sobbed. “In the Americas?”

  Paula Melchor leapt to her feet, her sewing forgotten. “This is the great honor King Carlos has bestowed on you?” she asked sarcastically. “After everything you’ve done for that miserable excuse for a monarch.”

  Her father gathered his wife into his embrace, something Valentina couldn’t recall witnessing before. Tears welled in her eyes. Things weren’t turning out the way she’d expected.

  “Hush, Paula,” he said softly. “Those are treasonous words. The king believes I am the best man for the job.”

  “But it’s so far away and we’re at war with the British. Everyone knows they have their eye on La Florida,” she protested.

  “And I intend to do everything in my power to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

  Fear constricted Valentina’s throat. “The king cannot send you into a war.”

  “We have no choice, Niña,” he replied. “We sail within the week.”

  “Manuela will refuse to go,” his wife protested.