Jack Frost: King of Thieves

CHAPTER XVI: Abita

Jack awoke belowdecks with a pounding headache and a mouth so dry that his tongue felt like wood and his teeth seemed to be covered with fur. His stomach felt sour and tight.
The boat moved steadily. Jack could hear the sweeps cutting rhythmically through the water. The sweeps.

His mind stumbled on that thought and he sat bolt upright in his small pallet. Not a good idea. His head spinning, he forced himself to his feet, stumbled out of their cramped quarters and made his way over to the ladder leading up out of the hold. With some effort he managed to climb out onto the deck.

Jack turned quickly and lurched back to the hatch. He practically fell down the ladder and scurried back to the quarters where the others still slept.

"Wake up!" Jack shouted at them.

Ester stirred but didn't open his eyes. "Right!" he said sleepily. "I think I'll breakfast on twelve oysters and a quart of ale."

Jack shook Peter and Sinbad.

"Where are we?" Sinbad asked, rubbing his eyes.

Jack shook Peter again. "Abita!"

Peter's eyes flew open. "Holy Christ!" Jack and the others washed and tried make themselves look the part. As they did, though, Jack wondered how they had ever managed to fool the captain and the king's man, and how they could possibly hope to deceive Lady Elinor of Aquataine, Manny's mother. They didn't look like knights; they looked like ruffians, road thieves.

"Be ready to ride as soon as it's done," Jack said, crossing to his pack.

"What if Jackson was known to the king's mother, or brother, or any of them?" Peter asked.

Jack glanced up at him. "Then we'll be riding for our lives."

Over the last ten years, Jack had faced the Faracens and the Alsace-Lorraine in battle. He had endured hardships most men could hardly imagine, and had found courage within his heart he hadn't known he possessed. But he could not recall ever being as nervous about anything as he was about telling Elinor of DunBroch that her son was dead.

It wasn't that he feared for his life, though Peter, Sinbad, and Ester seemed fairly certain that they would all end their day as prisoners in the Far Tower. Rather, he was awed by the mere fact that he was about to meet the great lady. Elinor had been Queen Consort of Southern Isles for as long as Jack had been alive. Longer, actually. She was the most famous, powerful, notorious woman in all the world. She was also said to be the most beautiful, even now, well into her seventies.

And so it was that he stood at the prow of the ship, staring toward the dock, watching as people gathered to greet the vessel. All around him, the ship's crew rushed to and fro, preparing to dock. Peter and Sinbad stood with their feet planted, their faces pale, their hands on the hilts of their swords. The ship bumped into the dock and two men jumped onto the quay to tie her in.

Jack had thought that he would have trouble spotting the queen consort; he should have known better. As bells pealed from the towers of the palace, the royal entourage emerged from the palace gate. The crowd parted. An older woman led the royal procession down toward the dock. She was tall, regal. The sun lit her handsome face. Surely this had to be Elinor. She was accompanied by a knight, also tall, with a mane of silver hair. Behind them came a younger pair, the man with ginger curls, and on his arm a young woman of surpassing beauty. Was this Prince Hans then?

No sooner had Jack asked himself the question than the thought came to him unbidden and as unforgiving as stone. No, not Prince. This was the new king.