Much thanks: To all those who wrote and gave me their support! I needed out of my funk, and all those gentil email nudges (As well as the violent threats from Zoë and Mage) proved just what the doctor ordered!
October 20, 1998
Cape Finisterre, Spain, 1689.
Robert was lost in a forign place, in the darkness of the night. He had no idea how to get back to the pier, and he couldn't ask for dirrections, because he didn't even speak the language.
He came across a horde of people that were surrounding one person who was yelling things in the forign language. Angry things.
As he came closer, the man turned the attention of the crowd to him. Robert didn't know weather to stay and try to find out what was going on, or run before they turned on him.
He didn't have enough time to try and decide. Members of the crowd grabbed hold of his arms, and pushed him to the centre with the main speaker.
Though Robert saw no danger towards him from this man, but there was a certain coldness in his dark brown eyes that made him shiver. The man was of average height and build, and though he was not ugly, he was not handsome either. His jet black hair was cut short, framing his forehead and his well tended mustashe and beard were the perfect complement.
He smiled as he spoke in words Robert had no way of knowing, and looked as if he expected something from him.
(Good sir, you are a man of God. Bless us that we might protect ourselves from the French devils that seek to destroy our good land!)¹
Robert blinked as all eyes came to him. What do they want? he wondered without speaking. The man gave him a grating look when he didn't respond.
(Sir, you do me wrong by not responding. Why do you pause, as if you don't understand?)
Robert shook his head and opened his mouth. What is he asking of me?
Before he got a chance to move, the stranger grabbed his arm and shook him.
(You don't understand me, do you?) He threw him to the ground.
Dear God, help me. Jack was right. My dress has made me a target, and my ignorance of this language makes me a fool.
(Are you a Frenchman sent to spy? Speak to me dog!)
"I have no quarrel with you, I am merely looking for my ship, and my passage..."
Unaware of what french actually sounded like, the angry loyalist mistook the sound of one forign tounge for another, and promptly kicked Robert in the stomach. It was at this point that he became aware of two figures in the mob.
The first was a beautiful young woman with long black hair, covered, just as her garb, by a violet cape, as if to hide her identity. Dazeling emerald green eyes, traced with fear, stared out at him from the cover of the darkness.
"No!" He yelled as he recieved another assult to the stomach.
Her companion was a tall redhaired man, with eyes just as stunning in blue. A similair cape covered him as well, hiding him amongst the crowd.
"Dear God..." He whispered to himself through the pain.
(We will not give in to...)
(Stop! Enough violence! It was not french, it was english!) The woman yelled just as their leader pulled back to deal another kick.
(Who speaks? Come forth.)
With her head down she slowly stepped to the front of the mob. When she would move forth no more, he stepped over Robert and moved to meet her. When he reached her, he yanked her hood down in anger. (The knave is defended by a gypsy whoar!) He reached back to slap her down, but his arm was haulted by the woman's rather large, rather ticked off companion.
(I believe my sister said enough violence) He said softly, yet the anger in his eyes was aparent.
For some reason, the man who had attacked Robert lost all of his fire, and backed down, to a point that he fleed the area. Within a few minutes, the entire crowd had dispersed.
"Are you all right?" The woman asked kneeling before him.
He blinked. The woman before him was breath taking. She was dressed in Emerald green and dark purple. Her jet black, wavey hair fell past her waist in a one length cloak of darkness and her emerald eyes were like that of a cat. Around her forehead she wore an odd necklace- like tiara made of ivory beads, each one engraved with a different design. From the centre of the row, a small gold cross hung, resting on her head.
"Father?"
"Ah, yes, I'll be fine."
The taller man came behind him and helped him to his feet. "We should hurry if we are to get to the ship in time." He spoke to the woman.
"You are going to the pier?" Robert asked, in hopes of finding his own ship.
"Yes. We will help you find your way," he replied, snaking his arm around Robert as he stumbled.
"Thank you, Uhhh..." he baited.
"Thierry. This is my sister Rosa."
"What did you say to get them to stop?" Robert asked, as the three travelers made their way to the pier.
"I told them that you were English, our ally, not French, our adversary."
"But I thought that England and Spain were enemies in the war."
"If that were so, I wouldn't be helping you."
Robert blinked. He had thought that they were helping him because they didn't want to see him, or anyone for that matter, hurt, not because their countries were allied in some war.
Thierry, realizing the mistake in his words, spoke quickly to calm him. "That's not the way I meant it. I meant that your ship probablly wouldn't have been allowed in the harbour if our countries were at the brink of war."
Robert nodded at his repention.
"Come, we have to hurry," Rosa whispered.
The three then made their way to Robert's ship.
Jean Luc turned to him in interest, his face in the expressionless mask which they had all seen Gambit imploy from time to time. Cyclops deduced that it was a tactic to use when a need to be diplomatic arose. As prince, Gambit must have been taught as a child how to control his expressions, so as not to tip his hand, as it were.
"I thought you said that England and Spain were at war with each other or somethin'."
"Non. Robert, and his fellow countrymen had been misinformed. I don't know how, why, or who by."
"Alison Baxter," Mattie uttered. Jean Luc motioned for her to countinue, so she did. Shrugging, she explained, "De poor chile was in love, an' didn' wan' Robert t' go, so she tried to scare dem all."
Hank nodded. "Simple enough. I had wondered about that."
"Yes, but we stray." He looked to Bobby as if to ask if there was anything else. When Bobby shook his head, he countinued.
"Rosa and Thierry just happened to be joining Robert on his voyage to the America. They had lived through enough persecution towards their so called witchcraft in their homeland, and were looking to start a new life in a land where no one had any preconcieved notions about them.
"The voyage was not as enjoyable as time went on however. Passengers were only allowed above deck once a day, and they were all getting restless. There was a supersticious belief by most sailors of the time that women onboard were badluck, so Rosa was not even allowed up at all. In loyality, Thierry had always stayed to comfort her.
As the voyage went on, Rosa and Robert fell deeper and deeper in love. She was taken back by his gentilness, and he by her intelligence. It was as if it was ment to be. As the long days passed, Rosa and Robert found ways to make them shorter by talking and laughing into the late hours of the night.
Their friendship was not the only notable change in the bizzare trio. With the passing of each day, Thierry appeared to become more and more irritable. It appeared to Robert that his foul mood was rubbing off on Rosa, as everytime Robert saw Rosa after she had just been with Thierry, she seemed more distant and a lot less healthy.
It occured to Robert that all the time below decks might be having their toll on the two of them. By the end of the voyage Rosa had been confined to a bed, and was barely able to hold her own head up. Robert sat through it all with her, falling deeper and deeper in love with each passing moment.
When they arrived in port very earily on a Sunday morning, Robert was almost bouncing with nervous tension and couped up energy. He got top side as fast as he could and inhaled the frosted New England air. When he returned to where Rosa and Thierry had been, they weren't there.
He searched for them long into the day, unable to give up on the woman he had come to love, before finally calling it quits for the day. He went to find the local church where he could get in contact with someone who would help him find shelter.
That night he was visited by a vision. As he slept the air around him seemed to transform into a pale figure of a woman. "Rooooberrrrrt...." it whistled in the calmness of the night.
Robert stirred ever so slightly. He rolled over, opened his eyes a crack, and then sat bolt upright in shock of the vision that befell his eyes. It was that of a beautiful woman, dressed in the same colours that Rosa had been. She had long flowing hair that seemed to merely fade into the darkness of the night night.
At first glance the semi translucant woman looked identical to Rosa, but there were subtle differences between the two. Her hair was straighter, wavy still, but not so tightly curled. Her face was younger, more perfectly cut. Her eyes were the same beautiful emerald green that Rosa's had been, but contrairy to her facial features, they bespoke an ageless wisdom which showed how old she truly was. Her physic was smaller, more muscular than Rosa, and was shown by the tight fitting pants.
"What manner of ghost--?"
"You are needed else where." The woman insisted, ignoring the bewilderment in his eyes.
"What? What do you mean?"
She seemed disapointed. "You are needed for bigger things."
"Like what? Who are you?"
Ignoring him, she said, "Go to Rosa. Help her."
At that he was sparked to his feet. "Is she in trouble? How do I find her?" The figure didn't respond, but merely floated on the currents with the winds. Shakily, Robert reached to light the candle next to his bed. "Be you Demon or Angel, ghost or spirt, I bid you speak!" He finally lit the candle and turned to the woman, but she was gone.
He spun rapidly trying to find her, almost putting out the flame, but it was to no avail. She was gone.
The man he had been staying with came into the room. "Robert, are you alright? I heard voices."
Robert nodded. "So did I."
The man's wife came up behind him. "You look frightened out of your wits! Would you like me to get you anything?"
"No. Thankyou. I'm fine," He spoke in a whisper, resting the candle back on the table. "Just first night jitters in an odd place. I'm fine."
"You're sure you don't need anything."
He nodded, and the three once again said their goodnights. Robert blew out the candle. His last thoughts before he drifted back to sleep were that of wondering what happened to Rosa, and just what a life with her would be like.
Notes
Heaven's Oceans
CRIM§ON™
1. Translated from Spanish.
The rain is Heaven's oceans on the rise,
High above a ledge of clouds, beyond the darkened skies,
They fall to Earth on winds of love
Herolds of the Lord above
I know that when I die, I'm gonna soar on heaven's oceans in the sky.