Souls Entwined Page 5

  Peter’s sword rattled to the deck when Old Benny cracked him over the head with the butt of his gun. With a single groan, Peter collapsed. He remained conscious, yet unable to stand.

  Beneath Lorenzo’s chest, Jozef pointed to a crate about ten feet behind Lorenzo and took his final breath.

  “Let me kill him,” Old Benny barked.

  Dazed, Peter awaited the verdict.

  Lubber picked up Peter’s sword, offering it to Old Benny. “Piece by piece?”

  Old Benny’s face revealed impassioned rage as he held the gun at Peter’s head. Lubber placed his hand on Old Benny’s shoulder and whispered in his ear.

  Old Benny handed the gun to his captain. “Piece by damned piece.”

  The ship lurched abruptly before Old Benny could take his sword. The dagger slid across the deck in front of Peter. Before Lorenzo knew what was happening, the old pirate gasped once then thudded to the deck.

  Stunned, Lubber cocked the gun, aiming at Peter. “Idiot,” he spat, then fired. Click. He gazed incredulously at the pistol, then cocked it again.

  Peter pulled the dagger out of Old Benny’s side. Lubber squinted one eye and aimed. Click. Lorenzo scrambled across the deck after the second misfire.

  Lubber rolled his eyes at Lorenzo. “What does it take to kill this simple man?”

  Peter pointed the dagger at Lubber, advancing slowly. “The book.”

  Using the toe of his boot, Lubber gracefully kicked Old Benny’s sword up off the deck and into his free hand. His eyes lit up. “A sword and a pistol against a dagger. Beg for mercy, Fool.” At the sound of the gun cocking, Peter stepped back. “Kneel to your Captain or accept death.”

  “Coward. Fight like a man,” Peter sneered.

  Lubber attacked with Old Benny’s sword. Lorenzo watched Peter block his advances as they battled across the deck. With each clang of steel against the six-inch dagger, Lorenzo knew he had to act fast. Peter spun, then went for Lubber’s knees. Taking a sideways step, the pirate laughed and caught his breath.

  “Surrender, and I’ll spare your life.”

  “The book,” Peter countered.

  “Greedy fool.” Lubber raised his gun. A shot rang out. Peter fell to the deck. The pirate tossed his head back in triumph, then glanced over his shoulder. “Your turn, American.”

  A pistol in Lorenzo’s hand smoldered.

  Peter scrambled to his feet, feeling his arms, legs, and torso for a wound he could not find.

  Lubber sniffed the end of his barrel, then watched as a bloody stain grew on the right shoulder of his white shirt. Wincing, he fired at Lorenzo. A bullet whizzed past his ear, thudding into the thick wooden mast behind him.

  Lorenzo stood his ground. He kept the gun aimed at the pirate, even though it contained no more bullets. Lubber aimed. Lorenzo hit the deck. Click. Raising his head, he watched the bumbling pirate shake the gun, squeezing the trigger a final time. Click.

  Tossing the gun aside, Lubber shifted the sword to his left hand. With a ferocious cry, he charged.

  Lorenzo watched the steel sword loom, ready to make the plunge. At that moment, each member of his family came to mind along with one stranger, a beautiful girl with curly hair running through a forest.

  Accepting death, Lorenzo closed his eyes. He imagined the girl falling to his side. Her hair tickled his cheek. Cupping her face, his hand felt not the smooth skin of a maiden but the weathered cheek of his fallen foe.

  Jerking away in disgust, Lorenzo watched Peter toss a broken rum bottle overboard before he kicked Lubber’s sword across the deck.

  “Now I’m the Captain of this ship and you, my friend, are fish bait.” Peter picked up the dazed pirate, tossing him overboard. “Enjoy your dinner, fish of the Aegean.” He sauntered to the wheel, turning the ship south, then adjusted sails.

  “Good shot, Lawrence.” Peter cried out.

  “It’s Lorenzo.”

  “Nice shooting, Lor-en-zo.” Peter skipped over to Old Benny, hesitantly kicking him with a bare toe. No response. With a grunt, he hoisted the heavy man up and over the side of the ship. Peter brushed his hands off, dancing his way back to the wheel. “Now, my American—”

  Peter turned, looking down the barrel of a gun.

  Lorenzo prayed his legs would not give out. “On your knees.” He shoved the gun against Peter’s nose, closing one nostril. “Plans changed.” He nodded toward Jozef’s body. “Yet, the treasure will be divided three ways.”

  “You get two shares?” Peter objected.

  “I promised Jozef I would give his share to his sister in Milos. I’m true to my word.” Without moving the gun, Lorenzo offered a hand. “Three ways.”

  With the gun half up his nose, Peter shook hands.

  Lubber’s cursing in the distance drew their attention. Both watched him bobbing in the choppy water. Lorenzo shuddered at the thought of hungry sea creatures tearing him apart piece by piece. He lowered the pistol. His good leg was knocked painfully out from under him, and he crumpled. The gun, now in Peter’s hand, cocked at his head.

  “The book, my friend,” Peter sneered, holding out his hand. “The real one.”

  “Get me a drink, and I’ll give you the book,” Lorenzo demanded. Peter hesitated, then laughed heartily. The trigger of the gun clicked back in place. Lorenzo allowed his head to fall back to the deck. Success. He almost laughed out loud at his narrow escape. Footsteps plodded down the stairs, bringing him back to his senses. He needed to think quickly.

  With Lubber and Old Benny out of the picture and Jozef dead, both the ship and the book were theirs to keep. But could he trust Peter? It was obvious that Peter couldn’t read, and there was some kind of treasure worth dying over to be found. The secrets to the treasure were in the book. Secrets that he alone could read and figure out. Lorenzo knew he needed to get back to his American ship, but that could wait. He needed Peter, and Peter needed him.

  Lorenzo quickly opened Jozef’s book, Grimm’s Children’s and Household Tales, Second Edition. Handwriting scrawled on the inside cover met his eyes. Three lines were inked in English, then signed and dated, “Captain J. Longworthy 1825”. Lorenzo flipped pages. It contained notes in nearly every margin. All penned in English, but nothing made sense. Riddles, distances, names, islands, and dates were jotted down in a hodgepodge of nonsense.

  A dark shadow crept over the book. Peter stood proudly with a bottle of wine and a handful of dried dates. Lorenzo took a ragged breath and made his decision.

  “Here,” Peter grunted, thrusting the food and wine at Lorenzo. The book exchanged hands. With his prize, Peter waltzed back to the wheel. Lorenzo took a long drink, leaning against the side of the ship. “I know of an island where we can rest,” Peter bellowed over a sudden gust of wind.

  Lorenzo nodded, then took another drink. It was good wine. His body ached, yet he was filled with hope and thankful for life, freedom, and possession of a book that could potentially lead to vast riches. It was time for a treasure hunt.

  Chapter 5

  The Deal

  It had been ten days since they took over the ship. Anchored near an uninhabited island close to Folegandros, Peter claimed his ship would be safe at this location for at least another week.

  “Our ship,” Lorenzo corrected.

  Lorenzo sat by the fire, engrossed in the book’s riddles, while Peter sharpened the dagger on a whetstone. Crackling flames cast shadows across the sand and water. Darkness crept over the page he was studying. Peter loomed, testing the blade with his thumb.

  “Read, American,” he growled with the fierceness of a killer.

  “Here,” the word squeaked out as Lorenzo tossed the book to Peter. “I need to wash up.”

  Lorenzo rose and turned to the cove, trusting Peter was too proud to strike someone from behind. H
e peeled off his shirt and shoes before wading in. The chilly water heightened his senses and built his courage.

  After splashing his face and torso, Lorenzo assessed his injuries. The ugly bruises on his chest had faded to purple and brown. The cut on his thigh, which Peter had stitched, was healing without infection. Pressing two ribs, which remained in questionable positions, Lorenzo took a deep breath before heading back to the fire.

  Peter stared at the book on his knees; the back cover faced him. “Tell me what you know, American. All of it.”

  “The book was written by two German brothers, Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm. It’s a collection of fairy tales that was passed down orally for generations. There are over two hundred tales, some very short, others a bit longer. Most of the stories center on good overcoming evil,” Lorenzo paused as Peter touched the cover with an eerie reverence.

  “The text is in German, but there are notes handwritten in English in the margins. The first four lines speak of treasure.”

  “Tell me,” Peter demanded.

  Quoting by memory, Lorenzo began, “‘Three strangers fight, a favor done, in return a treasure won. Sacrifice of two you must make. If not, the gods will forsake. Three bands lead the way, once broken do not stray.’”

  Peter scowled. “What the hell does that mean?”

  “Well, there may have been three men who earned or won a treasure. Perhaps a German, an Englishman, and—”

  “Greek, he may be Greek,” Peter proudly chimed, then narrowed his eyes. “Lubber mentioned a sacrifice. Could he be one of the men?”

  “I don’t think so. There are more riddles and notes in the margins, but nothing makes sense in the order it’s written.” With his hands pressed against his forehead, he leaned on his elbows.

  “What leads the way?” Peter asked.

  “Three bands. But I cannot find a link to ‘bands’ in the stories.”

  “Read to me, my friend,” Peter snarled the last two words.

  Lorenzo’s heart thudded as Peter pressed the book against his nose.

  “Let me tell you one of the stories.” Lorenzo backed away. “Perhaps you can figure out what I’m missing.”

  Peter placed the book back on his legs, smoothing the leather cover with rough hands.

  Lorenzo swallowed, then began retelling “The Frog Prince,” stumbling over the basics. By the end, his voice calmed into a narrative his grandmother would have been proud of. “The prince and princess rode off to live happily ever after.”

  “What about the pirate notes?” Peter demanded.

  “Since they don’t seem to have any connection to the stories, I cannot recall them from memory,” Lorenzo stated.

  Peter opened the book. Together they gazed at the first page, blank.

  “What’s this?” Peter sneered.

  Lorenzo scanned the page. It can’t be blank. It took a few long seconds for Lorenzo to realize why. He reached out to turn the book over.

  Peter jerked it away. His infuriated gaze returned to the last page. “Liar. There are only a few words here.” He stood with the book in his left hand, dagger in his right. “No more lies, American.”

  “I swear, what I said is written,” Lorenzo exclaimed.

  The book fell to the sand. With a swift kick of Peter’s boot, Lorenzo found himself on the ground with his nose pressed between the last page and the back cover of the book. There they were, three columns of three words each, printed upside down.

  “Read, word for word,” Peter hissed through clenched teeth.

  “I will, my savage friend, but this is the back of the book. What I told you is in the front.” Excitement overcame fear. Lorenzo was so engrossed in trying to understand the sequence of the handwritten notes that he never bothered to scrutinize the back cover.

  Peter released the grip around his neck, replacing it with the dagger’s well-sharpened blade.

  “The words are translated from English to Greek to German.” Lorenzo held the book up. “The second column is in Greek. Can you read it?”

  Peter squinted at the words. “Iron. Gold?” He stumbled over the third word.

  “Promise,” Lorenzo offered. “The same three words are here in English, and this column is in German.”

  “Iron, gold, promise. That does not tell me where the treasure is.” Lowering the blade, Peter’s shoulders deflated.

  “Jozef told me those three words before he died.” Lorenzo flipped back to the front cover. “Three bands. That’s where we need to start reading the riddles. With these three words translated, any of the pirates could find the starting point of the riddles. ‘Three bands lead the way, once broken do not stray.’”

  Lorenzo’s mind raced. Bands, broken, iron, gold, promises, iron. Pacing in the sand, two stories stuck in his mind—Iron John and Golden Goose. Both of them involved promises and gold, princesses and kings, but no bands. The Golden Bird, The Iron Stove, and The Devil’s Three Gold Hairs all had possibilities.

  He observed Peter, who remained seated, book in hand, scrutinizing the pages. Peter couldn’t read the German text but could match the letters of the three words.

  “Here’s ‘iron’,” Peter declared, pointing to the German word eisern. It was in the first story, The Frog Prince. Lorenzo tried in vain to read the words around it.

  “There must be another ‘iron’,” Lorenzo muttered.

  Peter continued searching. Lorenzo paced. Many stories had iron in them, but he couldn’t remember any ‘iron’ in The Frog Prince. Lorenzo came to a halt, shaking his head. “Go back to where you found ‘iron’.”

  Frowning, Peter flipped carefully, placing a dirty finger on the page. Lorenzo tried to read the words around it but could only decipher ‘Henrich’. Lorenzo’s mind clicked into place. Henry was the faithful servant whose heart was bound by three iron bands. The bands broke when the spell on the prince was broken. Such an insignificant part of the story was the key.

  “You found it. Three iron bands around Henry’s heart broke here.” Lorenzo placed his finger on the scrawl at the top of the page. “‘Only the wise with ironclad heart, body, and mind deserve the riches they may find. Three royal promises, all ironbound—two gold spheres, a golden dress, the treasure found. Hail Nikolas Raptis in victory! Island to the north and east. Beware the cursed blade, whom it befalls, and greed’s beast.’”

  Twice again, he read the lines to Peter.

  “Smart men with strong hearts, bodies, and minds deserve the treasure,” Lorenzo mumbled.

  “Kimolos.” Peter grinned. “That’s the island.” He began dancing around the fire. “Hail Nikolas Raptis victory! His victory was in Milos. The island to the north and east is Kimolos.”

  “Three royal promises, all ironbound. Gold spheres, golden dress—” Lorenzo kept thinking, ironbound. The stories, Iron John and Iron Stove both fit perfectly. One more, he needed one more story. He glanced at the open book, The Frog Prince. His grandmother had called that story Iron Henry.

  “Peter, find ‘gold’ in the first story.”

  Peter obeyed, searching each word as Lorenzo paced in the sand, trying to remember details of the three stories.

  “Here.” Peter found the word goldene. Kugel followed. Lorenzo knew that word was ‘ball’.

  “That’s it. Two gold spheres. In The Frog Prince, the princess lost her golden ball in the well and made a promise to the frog if he would retrieve it. Mark that page. In Iron John, the boy let John out of the cage when he returned his golden ball. Then John, who happened to be king, promised to help him.” With a bit of guidance, Peter found goldene kugel in Iron John.

  “In Iron Stove, the princess found a golden dress inside the third nut,” Lorenzo explained. Peter’s eyes widened in bewilderment, then he began to search. “Once the princess has the golden dress, the prince wil
l recognize her and make true on his promise to wed her.” Together they searched the story and soon found a page with goldene kleid on it.

  Peter sighed. “Now read.” He plucked the dagger out of the sand. Lorenzo glanced at the blade and the man who held it. Uneasy thoughts filled his head.

  “My friend, you keep the book. We shall sail to Kimolos where I will read what it says.”

  “Smart, American, very smart.” Peter tucked the dagger back into his belt and then placed the book carefully within the folds of his shirt.

  Lorenzo opened a bottle of wine. After taking a long drink, he offered it to Peter. “Trust me my friend.”

  “Aye, mate.” Peter belched as he wiped his mouth on his sleeve, then patted the rectangular lump on his chest. “Trust.”

  By mid-afternoon, they anchored at Kimolos. Peter readily nodded toward the center of the deck where a crate and a small barrel were overturned.

  “It’s time, American,” Peter announced.

  Lorenzo gazed apprehensively, uncertain of his new ‘friend’. Peter sat down on the crate. His dark eyes narrowed as he shifted to the right, keeping one eye on the shore, the other on the open sea. Peter removed the book from his coat, opening it carefully to the first marked page and then scanned the area for onlookers. He placed his finger on goldene kugel, then solemnly offered the book to Lorenzo.

  “‘As the sun shimmers on the sea, the highest point ye need be. To green freckled water make haste, darkness is near, no time to waste.’” Lorenzo looked up at Peter.

  “Mount Paleokastro, near the center of the island. That’s the highest point.” Peter’s round face clouded. “What’s ‘freckled’?”