Tranquillitas Amini

The hunched figure poked a thick stick into the glowering embers; prodding it to life. The silence before dawn, the change of guard between the night creatures and those who worshipped the sunlight was a time Dante had always taken pleasure from. Death often stole its more tenacious victims at this time, when hope had failed and it appeared there would be nothing more than an eternal darkness. That hour before the suns burning fingers inched its way over the landscape was a turning point, hard to describe, but one so fuelled with a universal energy Dante believed was Gods closest presence on earth every day. One he’d chosen to complete his work and worship.

Crackling of dry leaves beside him announced the small form rousing and waking. Dantes hand came to rest on its shoulder as he gazed down at the slumbering boy. Strange how he felt his face soften as he watched the lad. Dante caught himself wondering how old his own son might have been have been. With a jolt, he realised how many years had passed since those bloody figures lay on the flagstone floors of their cottage. Hard to believe that he might be a father to a grown man with his own trade. Dante snatched his hand away from the lads shoulder and threw another stick onto the fire. One act of selfishness and his own sons future had been snatched away; leaving Dante to repent and repay those moments for eternity.  He shook his head trying to clear the unbidden thoughts from his mind. Strange how he’d not thought of his own son for this many years, had kept that locked away, refusing to look at it. Strange too that this boy had crept under his skin; when countless others had not.  He consoled his mind with thoughts of ransom and reward which would be his when he found the boys father. Dante poked the fire violently and kicked the boy to wake him. “Wake lad. We need to ready ourselves for the next arduous climb.”

After their escape from the Spanish Capital, Dante had no plan for their direction but had found himself gravitating back to Rome and to its populated outcrops. Although they’d taken a wide birth round Capena, its proximity had woken too many memories. He snapped a stick and vowed to ensure particular longevity to the worship and care he would take with the boys father when he was located.

They’d lost the trackers over a week ago. Even so, he’d purposely kept a low profile; suspiciously eyeing any traveller they passed, covering campsites and movements. Although he’d been the best the Brotherhood had trained, Dante refused to let any detail slip. He would not fall prey to the original and most serious of the seven deadly sins. The cold twist of a knife as it thrust virtually through his heart reminded him again that he could no longer trust the Brotherhood. Pride was the ultimate source from which the other sins drew their powers.  Dante knew he would need to atone for his slip into melancholy. He body surged with the need to cleanse, but with no direction from the Brotherhood nor from God, he felt cheated and spiritually lost.

Fishing a soft leather pouch from under his tunic, Dante opened the mouth wide and smoothed it flat on his palm. Dark symbols stood out on a scratched map upon the leather. From his educated guess using the map, they were still a weeks march to a safe harbour. Dante was now determined to find shelter in Sicily and purpose with the dark brothers. Although the faceless father had no sins confirmed, Dante had busied himself cataloguing punishable reasons he would use to prolong the trial he would preside over. He felt an old glow of certainty return to his soul. His mind now calmed; finding peace with a God-sent plan. His role now was to protect his boy; to find his worthless father and make him pay for deserting Matthias into the cruel hands of Belicia. That the fool deserted the Queen of Spain was of secondary irritation, but one he would ensure a great financial gain would be secured before a slow painful death could be delivered.

Too preoccupied with his own thoughts, Dante had not realised that the forest was silent. Rays of light from the sun should be pouring through trees by now, beginning to warm Dantes back, but he suddenly realised that he felt none. The birds had not woken. The change over from night denizens and daytime scurrying creatures had frozen. 

“Matthias, wake lad.” Dante bent low and shook him. The boys eyes slowly blinked open and he rose rubbing his face. “Its still dark ,Signor.”

“Father. You must now refer me as your Father”

“Father. Its still dark.”

“Put your boots on Matthias, we’ll eat something first and then we need  to move to higher ground. There is something amiss.”

“The horses?”

“Have fled. Best we continue on foot in any case.”

The earth groaned under them. Shrieks, as though from the damned, echoed within the silent forest.

Dantes face became as unreadable as a solid stone wall; his movements liquid as he doused the fire and collected their meagre belongings into a bundle. 

“Come Matthias. Gods punishment day has arrived.”

“Should we pray?”

“If it is the end of times, then God would want us on our feet and ready, rather than on our knees.  Leave that for priests and the weak minded. We can worship his glory in many other ways. Best we make it to the top of this bluff before we plan what to do next.”

Darkness enveloped them as they climbed upward through the sparsely wooded forest.  The feint unmistakable smell of sulphur washed over them as drifting white ash began to fall softly about them. 

Stopping at a rocky outcrop, Dante and Matthias peered though the liquid darkness toward the horizon.

Although the sun blazed above them in its midmorning position, black clouds billowed about it cloaking and smothering its rays, revealing only a faint outline of a mountain several leagues in the distance. Broad sheets of fire and leaping flames blazed outward from its centre, emphasising the darkness as it spewed clouds of noxious gases into the atmosphere.

“Its sign from God, Matthias.”

 He looked at the calm face of the lad beside him and wondered again about the identity of the boys father. Royal blood gave him his poise and refined looks, but his fathers blood ran thick with courage, fearlessness and touched with a luck he’d seen rarely.

“In the midst of this” Dante waved his arm in front of the spectacular volcanic display,  “I need to seek Tranquility of the Mind. Its Gods plan for us. In Sicily, I promise to begin to teach you the true way to be at one with God. To find true peace.”

In his sinful pride, Dante had neglected to observe the basics. However, they had hope if they could reach the harbour and onto Sicily before being caught. The trackers may not have announced themselves in the last few days, but Dante knew they were relentless and would not have given up easily. He should know, only a few years ago his religious zeal had him hunting human pray on one of those very teams. 

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Story inspired by the [Fiction Friday] prompt at Write Anything, submitted to JM Strother’s #FridayFlash  and to Tony Nolands Tuesday Serial via Twitter.

This short snippet will appear - somewhere - in the Chronicles known as The Astonishing Adventures of Captain Juan.

Prompt - A boy and his father awaken early to watch the sunrise from their mountain campsite, but they begin to panic when the sky remains dark long into the afternoon.

Jerry Unsprung

Pick three of your characters from different stories. They are all invited to be guests on a talk show. They are all sitting in the green room waiting for the show to start. What happens next?..........

Authors note: Dante comes from the Captain Juan, stories, Tanissa from Mistress Moon, and Monica from Scars and Spiderwebs, certainly a very unlikley threesome, so lets see where they go with this...


Monica nervously checked the ends of her long dark hair and peeped through her shaggy fringe at the over stuffed sofa where a petite, exotic creature, whose body floated with such grace it made Monica want to scratch her own eyes out.

“Sorry for the wait ladies, we are just locating our last guest and then I’ll take you onto the set with Mr Springer. Will I send for more coffee?” A gangly lad dressed in the ubiquitous theatre blacks stood uncomfortably at the door. The walky talky at his hip burbled incomprehensibly and he absent mindly pressed the mute button on his head piece.

A slight scrowl from the sofa made him gulp. “Spring water perhaps… madam?”

“What I want, I am not sure you are man enough to give me”. A slow feline smile spread across her face as she languished on the sofa. A bead of sweat trickled down his face as he stared at her perfectly formed breasts, thinly hidden by gossamer and ribbon.

“I’d like a coke”, mumbled Monica, “and a sharp knife” she thought.

“I’ll bring you some Evian straight away.” He panted, completely ignoring Monica and her request.

The silence reverberated in Monicas ears. The walls seemed to move in around her as she began to sweat heavily. She needed to say something, anything.

“Do you have kids?” she blurted, immediately wishing she had kept her tongue and silence. A beautiful woman such as the one across the room would never have carried a baby.

Tanissas face broke into a warm and genuine smile. “I do, a very clever six year old who reminds me of the important things in the world. And you?”

“Yeah, two. A boy and a girl. Little buggers they are, but like you said, they keep you here and keep you going.”

“So you kept your boy? I admire your strength. I wish more women from where I came from could see that it is no shame to bear a boy and to bring him up within the household.”

Before Monica could ask any further questions, the gaffer was back with a bottle of Evian and a glass full of ice and slices of lemon. Two security guards ushered another man into the room.

“Take a seat Dante, I’ll bring you something to drink if you like. I’m glad we found you. These studios are like a maze. A person could get lost for hours here.”

“That won’t be necessary. We won’t be here long in any case.”

“Ok – suit yourself. Jerrys show do tend to get a bit emotional, so I always suggest folk hydrate up before getting out under those lights. I’ll turn the studio cam on for you. The audience has just been seated and are being warmed up by our crew. I’ll be back for you as soon as Jerry gets on stage.”

The lad walked over to the screen hung in the corner and turned it on. Tanissa purred a thank you as he strayed past her sofa on his way out. Her gaze lingered up to the new comer and with her careful analysis, immediately understood that this man was not to be underestimated, nor of the weak caliber she normally saw within the sex.

Dantes tall muscular form stood solidly beside the doorway. His eyes had swept the surrounds, noted the escape routes and possible makeshift weapons and he had positioned himself in the most advantageous place within the confides of the green room, should an unexpected attack take place.

His partially open shirt revealed a strong chest thickly populated with dark curled hair. Nestled in the middle was a leather thong strung round his neck with a simple tiny silver ring which glittered as it caught the light with the movement of his deep breathing.

“So,” began Tanissa carefully, “I can’t imagine why Jerry has invited the three of us to be together on his show. There could not be a single thing that any of us has in common and I doubt either of you have slept with any of the men I have.”

.Dante glared with open contempt at Tanissa.”Your brazenness condemns you to one of the lower hells madam. In such a public place it would have been wise to cover your wanton body against the eyes of men in the audience.”

She slunk over towards him tracing her hand over the hardened muscles in his chest. “Your body has the marks of a warrior. What is it that you do for a living? Whatever it is, I can double it. Your mistress will be overcompensated for the loss of one of her finest guards, I can assure you. You would find me a most agreeable owner”

Dante refused to look at her, staring instead at the screen. “I am a simple man of God, undertaking his work in the way that I am guided.”

Her eyes glittered “It is you now that is brazen, speaking as though men had any standing with the Goddess or the divine.”

Monica let out a hollow laugh. “Well it can’t be our beliefs in a God that brings us together. I don’t believe in that rubbish. Once you are dead you’re dead. Worm meat, nothing more. Our lives are here for misery and suffering.”

“Jerry Jerry Jerry” the growing cries of the crowd could not only be heard from the speakers, but now echoed through the hallways of the studio. Monica put her hands over her ears. “What the hell am I doing this for? Jerrys shows are full of psychos and inbred idiots who sleep around.”

The small screen showed the crew waving their arms in the air in front of the seated crowd. Once they began to throw small gifts randomly the crowds mood whipped into a frenzy.

Tanissa gasped. “Its barbaric – what are those people screaming like that for? Are we to be put into an arena and made to fight for our lives?”

Dante smiles slowly up at her, his snake like eyes steely glare. “Monica is more perceptive than she appears to be. None of us are inbreds.”

They stared at one another intensely as the noise of the crowd excitement mounted.

Monica glared at the other two. “What? I’m the normal one out of all of us. Married, two kids, stay at home mum. That’s it.”

“Interesting scars you have Monica. Takes quite a talent to cut so deeply, bleed and not hit something that will kill you straight away.” Dantes dark eyes bore into hers. Monica looked away and rubbed her arms as though in doing so the marks would disappear.

Another roar from the crowd broke the moment.

One of the crew burst through the door; his horror stricken face unable to form words as he pointed to the screen.

The cheering cries from the set turned into screams of terror. Monica watched fixated at the screen as the blood soaked Jerry stumbled onto the stage clutching at his intestines as they tumbled from his stomach cavity; finally collapsing on one of the sofas.

She turned to make a comment to the other guests but Dante had disappeared like a ghost. Tanissa was slowly licking a spook of molten chocolate from a praline jar which had materialized. Her eyes greedily taking in the dying presenters few gasping moments.

Your character collects something that no one else knows about—they don’t keep it secret, it’s just never come up..........

For those following the weekly updates on Captain Juan, this will be added in within the next few weeks - it will make sense when you read it in context.. really..... If you haven't already - please subscribe to a message in a bottle and join us in a ripping yarn about The Astonishing Adventures of Captain Juan - a story being co-written before your eyes by Paul , Jodi and myself.



The fire crackled echoing into the dense foliage of forest. Light flickering on the mans face, shadows cast across his eyes and if there were tears, they were hidden. In his hand he held a small lock of dark curled hair. Brushing it across is cheek, he sighed deeply, allowing for a moment to be transported to the time he had held it first. Her dark eyes flashing, that sensuous mouth, her body arched towards his.

He looked a the small sleeping form beside him and out of habit his eyes darted in all directions checking the environment, listening for threats, waiting for any sign of pursuit but knowing that there would be none.

Carefully entombing the dark curls in its velveteen pouch, he secreted it away under his shirt. A large flicker from the fire caught the metallic glint of the delicate ring secured by a leather thong around his neck. The small figure shifted and wriggled, moaning quietly. The man placed a huge hand gently on the boys chest; the touch immediately calming the sleeping form. From another small pouch he drew out a lock of golden hair tied roughly with thin ribbon. He curled it round his little finger and caressed it with his thumb absentmindedly.

Belicia had served a purpose, he mused. Had they more time together; well who knows what might have developed. Her temper and jealousy towards the boy had been her undoing.

“Papa?” a sleepy voice called.

Frowning with irritation the man stated evenly, “Matthias, you need to rest.”

The boy propped up with his elbow and stared at the beribboned tress.

“Why did you take a lock of her hair?”

The man neatly folded the golden tresses into his hand and looked out into the darkness; the answer too complicated to begin to communicate with the small boy.

“She wasn’t my real mother. I’m glad she..”

Dante looked at him sharply. “We promised never to speak of this.”

Matthias perfect lips drew into a pout. “My real mother…”

“And that is another matter we must never speak of. You are in grave danger should anyone ever find out.”

Large brown eyes framed in long lashes looked up at him. “You know who she is?”

Picking up a stick and poking the fire, Dante replied evenly, “I do and that is a matter we must keep between us.”

“Papa?”

A rare smile crossed Dantes face. “That name will do as best as any other. Until we find your real father that is. Now get some rest. We need to cross these mountains before the first winter snows start.”

Matthias snuggled under his blanket and looked up at Dante with his wide brown eyes. “Do you think he is looking for me?”

Dante looked at the young face seriously. “Any man who knew he had a son such as you would move heaven and earth to find you. It is in Gods hands now Matthias. We must trust the signs we are given. In the mean time, I am taking you somewhere safe and we will continue with your education. It will not do for your father to find you a witless dolt with no appreciation of the classics. Now Signor, sleep.”

“Papa.” The persistent boy ventured.

Dante shot him a icy glare in warning.

“Do all gentlemen keep locks of hair from their past loves?”

Dante shook his head in disbelief. The boys youth belied his wisdom and grasp on courtly behaviour. Although in this case it was wildly inaccurate, Dante felt it unwise to reveal exactly whose hair he held and the circumstances it had been procured.

“Sometimes – now sleep.”

Dante hand felt for the pouch holding the dark curls. Breathing deeply and looking into the inky darkness he could hear her screams, her beautiful face etched in terror and pain.

“Maria” he whispered. So powerful, so strong and the only to escape him. His hand angrily griped the pouch suddenly recalling the other one who had slipped through his fingers due to others incompetence.

He petted the pouch and glared into the fire. “I’ll find both of you and this time there will be none to save you. I’ll be taking more than just a locks of hair next time.”

Music Musings

Music Musings #15

Story inspired by listening to "Wild Thing"

For those following the weekly updates on Captain Juan, this will be added in within the next few weeks - with some editing.... I am still exploring Dantes character and the Musical Musings seemed to fit perfectly..... If you haven't already - please subscribe to a message in a bottle and join us in a ripping yarn about The Astonishing Adventures of Captain Juan - a story being co-written before your eyes by Paul , Jodi and myself.

Belicias eyes followed the fluid movements of the tall figure as he guided Matthias through the intricacies of a flying cat roll. His muscular frame belied its flexibility and speed as he demonstrated the move.

“Ab initio – from the beginning.” Dante encouraged the young boy.

She doubted ‘Carlos’ was the same man she had letters of recommendation of. His lack of enthusiasm towards musical education or literary discussion a glaring omission in the character report she held in her hands. However, she kept her tongue, preferring this version than the less than favorable references she had received from Carlos’s previous employer.

“Bella gerant alii – let others wage war Matthias, remember that. Always in court,amicus omnibus, amicus nemini – a friend to all is a friend to none – keep your own council.” Wafted Dantes advice to Matthias as they sat in the courtyard.

He was an enigma with strength and cruelty of a leopard but spoke Latin fluently and a devout Catholic, praying every night and spending entire Sundays at the Cathedral. He was a wild thing, untamed and she wondered for the hundredth time how why and he chose to come to their household.

Matthias would learn better skills with this new ‘Carlos’ and be better equipped for his life than if she had the mild mannered Minstrel she had originally hired unseen through the hiring marketplace.

With a flushed face full of excitement Matthias ran in skidding to a halt in front of Belicia “Mother! Guess what – tomorrow is Latin Day where I can’t speak anything but Latin!”

Bemused, she replied “Oh and what will happen if you achieve this feat?”

Matthias began jumping up and down, “Carlos will take me hunting.”

“For what?” Belicia asked

With a solemn face the boy replied in a hushed voice. “It’s a surprise.”

“Hmm” his mother mused, “We will have to see about that.”

“Dictum meum pactum – my word is my bond signora.” Dante stated, daring her to override his decision.

Her eyes met Carlos’s; the dark depths hypnotically pulling her in, she gave a small snort of defeat and looked away.

In a uncharacteristic girlish gesture, she blushed and quickly turned away. She’d never experienced the flush of first love, never had her heart racing with the thought of any man, or guiltily enjoyed the warmth and glow seeping through her body as she looked at Carlos now. Her own marriage had been arranged, one of political convenience and of the Queens insistence.

“Come, Matthias, we need to prepare for bed and leave your mother alone with her thoughts. By your leave Señora” Dante replied, slightly inclining his head.

Without turning, her face flushed scarlet, Belicia fluttered her arm in dismissal.

“Wild thing, you make my heart ……” she could not bring herself to even think what her heart was feeling towards him.

As their footfalls sounded in the distance, she allowed herself to turn and watch them leave. The tall brooding mass a direct contrast to the sparkle of life flittering around him excitedly. Even at the tender age of five, Matthias had the confident swagger of his father. Belicia breathed deeply thinking of her time in the Royal Court as one of the Queens handpicked ladies in waiting. She remembered the first time Matthias’s father presented himself to the Queen, his roving eye sparkling with promise to every female present. Belicia had seen numerous ladies in waiting fall to his feet to their eventual social disgrace. She smiled wryly. Matthias was testament the ultimate social downfall. The Queen had quickly arranged a marriage with one of the royal lieutenants and the whole incident smoothed over, lose ends tied up and forgotten; as was the way within the twisted political foray of the Royal Court.

She had given in to her path of servitude and loyalty for the Queen, sacrificing any though of personal happiness. Until Carlos had arrived, she had not thought that her life would deviate from the loveless, lackluster union she had her mostly absent husband.

“Wild thing, I think I”….. could she even think the word love? Belicia pondered. A noise behind her made her involuntarily shriek.

“Forgive me Señora, I startled you” Dantes quiet manner and movement always surprised her. She looked up into his face, breathing in the hot masculine muskiness of his body. His mismatched eyes had been cause for many of the servants to avoid looking directly at him, but now she felt compelled to stare deeply into them. She realized for the first time that one of his pupils was misshapen, the outline like a keyhole. Belicia wondered how a mildly mannered tutor might have received the cruel scar she saw across his left eyebrow and onto his cheek, being so faint, she had not noticed it before.

Her breathing rapidly grew shorter as she realized how close he now was to her. “I.. oh!” Belicia began but staggered as her head muddled with dizziness. Dante quickly caught her and lowered her gently to the nearby couch.

She flushed again, angry that his proximity had turned her usual icy demeanor into a simpering star struck maiden.

“Señora, you have a fever. I’ll call the steward to fetch a healer.” Dante’s eyes were filled with genuine concern.

“No, please. Its nothing.” She replied weakly.

He stood to leave. “Matthias is already in his room preparing for sleep. I thought I would go to night mass and came to let you know.”

“Perhaps I will come with you. An outing away from the villa might do me well”

“As you wish, Señora” His benign smile irritating her suddenly as he stood offering his hand to assist her in standing.

“Carlos.” She began

Yes my lady? His curt reply.

“You never talk about your life outside of your past. You must have family, loved ones.” Belicia started, stammering at the end.

With a twinge of sadness in his eyes, Dante shook his head. No Señora. I gave my life to the Lord when my family were all murdered by a madman. I prefer to keep my affairs between myself and God.

With a brazen brashness she had never held in the past, Belicia stood before him, putting her hand on his chest. She could feel the tight muscles through the linen shirt and her breathing increased.

“Forgive me I didn’t mean to intrude.”

They stood for long moments looking at one another; her hand still on his chest, feeling his strong heartbeat rhythmically beating.

“Mass begins shortly Señora.” He evenly stated.

Belicias bravado waned. “Yes, yes of course. Off you go. I may send for a tincture for my fever.”

She sat on the couch deflated and watched him leave the room. Was she imagining the possibilities in front of her? Did he have any feelings for her? Belicia wished for the tenth time today that she still held the Queens ear for advice; more than ever she needed guidance in this unmapped territory of love and her heart.

No Satisfaction

Musical Musings #13:

Story inspired by listening to

(Can't get no) Satisfaction

The Rolling Stones

For those following the weekly updates on Captain Juan, this will be added in within the next few weeks - with some editing.... I am exploring Dantes character and drive for what he is about to launch into and the Musical Musings seemed to fit perfectly..... for all others - please subscribe to a message in a bottle and join us in a ripping yarn about The Astonishing Adventures of Captain Juan - a story being co-written before your eyes by Paul , Jodi and myself.

Sweat and tears streaked the young mans face. Confused, terrified and pushed to his limit of pain, his once fine clothes were in tatters, sodden with urine and fear. His left arm was stretched out and tied to a solid wooden table; his body heavily bound to the wooden chair. His fingers delicately fanned out and secured by iron skewers, driven precisely into each knuckle and then firmly into the table top.

A canvas roll of iron and wooden oddments lay neatly to one side each piece carefully cleansed before being tucked away for future use. His eyes bulged as he could only imagine what pain the remaining implement might bring.

A tall muscled back faced him, the figure kneeling in prayer.

“Please, I’ll tell you everything. Whatever you need to know I’ll tell you’ Victor whined piteously.

“Of that, I have no doubt.” Replied the figure; the first time he had spoken in over twelve hours.

“Please who are you why are you doing this?” Sobbed Victor, his face etched in excruciating never ending pain. “ My father is a noble in the Royal Court. He will give you anything if you just let me go.”

Silence grew heavily, weighed down by the horror in the room.

The muscled back shone in the flickering torchlight like well oiled basalt. Unmoving, a low chant emitting raising and lowering with prayer.

Victor began to scream; the noise unnerving him, the pain was beyond anything he had every experienced; his terror and confusion blinding his consciousness.

The light was disturbed for a moment and a slight wooden scraping noise came from the side wall. Dante athletically flicked himself from kneeling to standing within a heartbeat. Noiselessly, he left the room; pushing the heavy iron lock sidewards to open wooden door. Victor had not noticed his exit and continued screaming hysterically.

Dantes’ head inclined slightly as he lowered his eyes momentarily. “My Lord?”

An obese sweaty noble patted his flushed face and wrung out the expensive silk cloth nervously.

“How long will this....” he gestured pathetically, “going to take?”

A humorless smile met Dantes lips,” My Lord, you requested little blood and maximum pain and terror. I can keep him at this point for weeks. I doubt his sanity will last more than a few hours though.”

Lord Toress hyperventilated “ I thought I wanted to watch it all, see him suffer every moment. Your methods are very.. ..exact.” He struggled to meet Dantes eyes as his hands nervously fluttered about.

“My Lord, why don’t you avail yourself to the kitchen finest offerings. I will order my manservant to fetch you some sweet wine. Once your stomach has settled then you might like to watch further developments.”

Toress’s shoulders sagged with relief. “Yes. Yes, a short break will strengthen my nerves. Ermmm… Carry on.”

Dante inclined his head slightly and spun on his heal, entering his sanctuary again.

He breathed deeply, seeking contact and approval from his God. He ceremoniously oiled his naked torso, chanting in prayer, cleansing his body from the momentary contact with the unclean outside.

His normally focused mind wandered, picturing the beautiful face of Ruby, her features striking as they contorted in the pain he had served her. A low guttural growl erupted from the depths of his body. Not since she had been stolen away from him thus ending his perfect reputation, had he experienced the thrill and exhilaration he normally experienced from his assignments. The beauty he found in his clients deaths was now meaningless. Despite acknowledging that he was still on his holy mission and cleansing the masses of wickedness; he now felt hollow and unfulfilled.

He drew a long metal skewer from his roll and inserted it into Victors wrist, just between the cartilage bones. Through a practiced touch, he kept thrusting it up into his arm to separate the ulna and radius, careful not to go too close to the artery. Victors screams hit a higher pitch as every pain receptor blew off the scale. The tiniest movement reset the throbbing with even his trembling pitching pain further through his body.

This used to be one of Dantes favoured moves, bringing him closer to God and to redemption, and now it brought him no satisfaction.

Growling again and cursing Ruby and that Captain of hers, he knelt swearing to God he would seek their painful long deaths to his last breath.

Do we have an accord Captain?

Write about a failed proposal.......

For those following the weekly updates on Captain Juan, this is the next installment... for all others - please subscribe to a message in a bottle and join us in a ripping yarn about The Astonishing Adventures of Captain Juan - a story being co-written before your eyes by Paul , Jodi and myself.


Dante eyes glittered in reflection of the fires still burning in the warehouse along the docks. Thick acrid smoke still permeated the air, but seemed to part as Dante strode through it. His eyes darted into every corner searching for further clues.

He had easily found the foolish Genoese ‘merchants’ laying in pools of their own blood and gore at the church. Having realized that his prey had made their escape long ago, he chose to commune with his God for further guidance. Amidst the cannon fire and screams at the docks, he’d spent an hour prostrate at the alter gaining strength and regaining his inner calmness. A low guttural growl in his throat emerged as a prayer, a promise, a purpose as he rose, crossing himself before turning swiftly on his heel and leaving the inner sanctum of the church.

Standing on the dock overlooking the battered remains of the yet to be completed Castillo de San Antón, Dante suddenly clasped his hands together and bowed his head. “Lord” he prayed, “Unless you gift me the power of wings, I cannot follow him in these winds – the ship is the fastest in Spain and only Satan knows where he is headed. Grant me a path in which I may continue the purging of evil in this land and rid it of that Captain.”
A bowswains sharp whistle roused him from his appeal to his God. An English Ship had entered the harbour and appeared to be flying a treaty flag. Despite the chaos surrounding him, soldiers shouting, sailors swearing as they were dragged from docked ships and the morning chorus of howling dogs, Dante surrounded himself with peace and calmness and the absolute focus which made him the most feared and respected in his trade.
He watched at a longboat drew up and landed. With practiced ease he stepped into a doorway and watched as an athletic young man of signatory disembarked was lead away to a waiting carriage. The clouds parted for a spit second and the sun shone brightly , highlighting the blond hair of the departing captain.

Dante bowed his head slightly in recognition of his sign from God and followed the detachment to the Ambassadors residence. Dante decided there was little use in attempting to approach or follow him into the secure area so secured several hot loaves of bread from the markets and chewed on on a peice thoughtfully. Purchasing some cheese as well, he languidly made his way back to the docks to awaited for the emergence of the young Captain. Having subsisted on dry ration biscuit, the warm smell of fresh bread made the young cabin boys mouth water as he sat bored waiting at the longboat for the arrival of the Captain. He was more than happy to share his exciting adventure with the kind priest who appeared beside him. Matthews mother would have been proud of her son as he bowed his head and gave confession on the docks.
The clattering of hooves heralded the arrival of the English crew. The Blond nobleman alighted from his seat with a scrowl still etched on his face.
“Captain Blakeshaw, I believe we might be of service to each other.” Dante approached him bowing slightly.
The Captain sensed the danger and the hunter species within this dark tall figure. He recognized the bloodshed in his eyes and involuntarily shivered.

“What the devil are you talking about? Who are you?” He countered raising himself to his full height in front of Dante.

Dantes thick English accent, betrayed his Italian origin, but noted him of a man of learning. Blakeshaw hesitated, curious at this turn of events.

Dantes head inclined slightly “I am a simple God fearing loyal subject of the crown”. He continued smoothly “I am afraid that many of the inns have been damaged or looted in this madness, however, you would find a great benefit if we broke bread together and spoke of important matters. Please invite your men to join us at the nearby church. They can offer us a quiet place to speak. There are too many open ears in this public place.”

Blakeshaw signaled the carriage and they pulled themselves into the seats. Sharp silence sliced the air as they rode in the carriage together, each man staring the other in undisguised mistrust.

One gesture from Dante had the monks scurrying to tidy a prayer room when they arrived. Dante wasted no time as he handed the captain slices of bread and cheese. “You are hunting Juan. Both the public and private price on his head has increased considerably since you were in court. I also am committed to bringing justice to that pirate. I have at my disposal letters of mark from the church and from Royalty to allow me passage through any “unpleasantries”. You have a ship and I need to follow him - do we have an accord?

Blakeshaw stumbled. His logic told him that Dantes words rang true and that a powerful ally as he would get him into places that he would not ordinarily be able to go. He was astounded at the ease in which Dante had culminated events and secrets that even he had only been privy to recently. He was curious to who Dante was , or who he knew; but was very wary of the preditor.

Despite all doors closed, a cool rush flowed through the room, perfuming the area; as if a noblewoman had walked past. Dante growled and crossed himself, his eyes darting to each corner. That presence was back and had not been blocked by the sanctity of the grounds they stood upon.

Blackeshaw stood, unaware of any of this. “I am sorry Sir, your offer is very compelling. However we must press on with my Kings orders and am not allowed to carry passengers or foreigners upon our ship. I wish you well in your search.”

Dante gripped his arm and stared into his eyes. “Hes a marked man Captain. One of us will find him, He would do well to pray that it will be you and the hangmans noose and not me first. But the Lord is the only one who can judge his soul.”

Dante disappeared into the shadows of the church, leaving Blakeshaw and his men puzzled and speechless.