WHAT YOU WILL

CHARLIE COCHRANE

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They say there’s no fool like an old fool. Antonio didn’t count himself as old but he was more fool than any man ought to be who’d flown around the world and back again so often he might as well have just been going from Deptford to Dartford. There was a lad involved. There’s always a lad in the tale, for men like him.

And was there a happy ending? Now that depends on whether you believe what a certain playwright wrote, or whether you want the real story.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright 2011 by Charlie Cochrane

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

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Cover Art by Deana C. Jamroz

Editing by Kris Jacen

Ebook format ISBN# 978-1-60820-506-6

Issued 2011

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PROLOGUE

They say there’s no fool like an old fool. Now, I don’t yet count myself as old, and back when this tale is set, forty was still a pinprick on the far side of the clouds for me, approaching but not yet too close. But I was a fool all right, more fool than any man ought to be who’s flown around the world and back again so often he might as well have just been going from Deptford to Dartford. There was a lad involved. There’s always a lad in the tale, isn’t there, for such as me?

And was there a happy ending? Now that depends on whether you believe what a certain playwright wrote, or whether you want the real story.

ACT ONE, SCENE ONE

“We’ll be passing Illyria in thirty minutes, Captain Antonio.”

“Thank you, Soames.” Illyria already? At that rate, come the week’s end, the silk we carried wouldn’t just be in the markets of London, it would already be girding the backside of some rich man’s mistress. Hell, this steamship set a cracking pace. I watched out my observation window as thin streams of clouds parted to show a turbulent sea, and the calmer, green and gold haze of the coastal strip. Just a sprinkling of snow on the hills, but at least today was clear.

How on earth had people managed in the days when the only route back to England from the Indies was by water? Over the Indian Ocean, beating round the Cape and sailing home only as fast as the wind would let you—it seemed another world, now.

I’d flown these routes before, back in the days when I was still a poacher. Plenty of rich pickings to be found. What did they call that trader my speedy little privateer took, these five years past? Phoenix; that was it. Phoenix, treasure-trove full of jewels the size of quails’ eggs and spices so fresh you’d have sworn they were new picked. By God, we’d filled our purses that day.

Now that I’d “turned gamekeeper” I had legitimate cause to be flying over here but Illyria was still a name to bring out sweat on the back of my neck. I’d not dared to land there any more, no matter how lucrative a trade contract I’d been offered.

I guess I should have stopped flying then, when my pockets were full of Phoenix’s profits. I could have given my Letter of Marque back to Her Majesty’s men, then gone home and settled down, but the smell of the chase was always calling me and there was always another ship to hunt down. Tiger, my last prize was called. We fell on her out of the sun; might have got away with it if she’d hauled her colours and just let us strip her of her cargo, but it came to a fight. Nasty, brutal fight, and all—Count Orsino’s nephew lost his leg and I was left a marked man. Set foot in Illyria and I was dead, the Count would see to that.

Still, I’d made a success of myself since those privateering days, making plenty of money to see me through a comfortable old age, once I’d had enough of flying, or it had had enough of me. All I lacked was someone to spend that time with.

I never was one for spending ages staring into my glass, although if I caught my reflection in the helm’s polished brass I saw a presentable enough face looking back, and knew I’d still be counted handsome, despite the scar across my chin. The looks I got from the women of London, painted whores up to finest ladies, reassured me the wound didn’t make a scrap of difference. Not that any amount of looking or sighing from them was going to make a scrap of difference to me as far as my affections were concerned.

Oh, I’d had my moments with men, but none of them had lasted long and I was still foolhardy enough to think that one day he’d come along, my soul mate, and I’d be made up. A man can dream.

“Sir!” Soames voice broke in on my thoughts again. He was a good first officer but it seemed he never let a man have time to think. “Starboard side—looks like some poor soul’s copped it.”

The wreckage stood out like a great wen on the coastline, half in the sea and half on the strand, but this was no seagoing vessel. “Bloody pleasure flyers,” I said, and Soames nodded in reply.

I’d seen the like before—small, swift aircraft, rich men’s playthings, damned capricious unless you had the touch with flying them. This one had clearly proved too much for her crew to handle. Still, it pulled at my heartstrings to see such a neat little machine ditched and half burned. Maybe the snow storms we’d been having had done for her.

“Looks like there’s at least one survivor, sir.” A small spot, crawling around the wreck, proved that Soames’ eyesight was keen as ever. “Poor soul, he’ll be frozen to death before anyone finds him. There can’t be a village for miles.”

“We’ll land.” Funny, that. There was no debate, no indecision on my part. I suddenly knew, for whatever reason God alone could tell me, that we had to go down and help. Illyria and my status there notwithstanding.

“Won’t that delay us, sir?”

“Aye, but we’ve made good enough time to allow some leeway. Make it so.”

Perhaps I was moved by memories of stories I’d heard as a child, how old Cloudesley Shovell had misread his bearings, got wrecked off the Scillies and been dispatched—or so my granny said—by an old woman who’d been more interested in scavenging than acts of mercy. I knew I couldn’t leave anyone, assuming they survived the cold, to the mercy of the Illyrians; I wasn’t sure they had any mercy to give. At least Soames didn’t dare argue with me. The captain had spoken, and my word was law.

That tiny little speck could have been anything or anyone, you can’t tell a lot from the height we’d been cruising, but it turned out to be a boy. No, he was much older than a boy; it was his state of shock making him look so young, so fragile. My heart near leapt through my waistcoat at the sight of him, honest to God.

I’ve never been taken that way before, not what the old maids call “love at first meeting”, but even an old dog like me can learn new tricks. The young man could walk, miracle of miracles, apparently unhurt from the impact. Seemed he’d been damn lucky, picked up out of the wreckage unconscious by a local fisherman and cared for by his family, who’d dried him and warmed him and saved his life. Maybe I’d misjudged the Illyrians—at least some of them. His ship had got into technical difficulties, he said. She’d come down lightly but then—he didn’t know how—she was all aflame.

“Maybe the fuel leaked and there was a spark?” He looked from me to Soames and back again, like a wild hunted thing.

Soames had shrugged at this, saying it might well have been. I’d still been too moonstruck to do much more than make sure the lad—Roderigo he said his name was—didn’t die of shock, despite the warm coat we’d swaddled him in. Any other time I’d have given anyone who’d have listened the benefit of my opinion on small airships and why they crashed—particularly in unskilled hands—but suddenly I’d lost all interest. All that mattered was that Roderigo had survived.

What makes a man—a sensible, steady man like me who’s seen a bit of life both sides of the law and come out the other side—turn into nothing more than a sentimental girl? You tell me, because I don’t know the answer.

Roderigo had started rambling by then, asking about his sister. He’d come back to the wreck to look for her—where was she and why were we keeping her from him? It took an age to get him to understand we hadn’t found any other survivors. It broke my heart to hear him calling for her.

“Viola! Viola! What have you done with her?” In the end we gave him a dose of laudanum to calm him down and I said I’d get him to the nearest town, to see if we could find his sister there. I wasn’t hopeful—truth be known I thought we had no bloody chance of finding her alive—but it meant I could spend more time with him. Share a room. Share a bed, maybe; airmen often did, nothing meant by it.

Soames was lost for words at my decision but, as I said, my word’s law. I told him his duty was to the cargo, not to me, and that he could pick me up next outward trip. I’d be at the refuelling point. I’m not sure he believed me, but I’d gone past caring. Wherever this lad went, I knew I had to be at his side, even if it meant heading further into Illyria and signing my own death warrant.

ACT ONE, SCENE TWO

Now, I had Count Orsino in mind regarding that death warrant; him stringing me up from some tree in revenge for crippling his kin. I didn’t realise I’d nearly die of a broken heart beforehand. We watched the crew take my ship up again, and no sooner had she breached the clouds when Roderigo tried to give me the push. Right, I admit, that’s not quite true. I’m getting ahead of myself, skipping too many pages of the log in my haste to get the story out.

He didn’t try to lose me until the next day.

When the ship had gone, I’d taken him to a village, found a nice inn and got him fed, warmed and settled for the night. We’d shared a room and it had taken all my self control not to try my luck with him there and then, but that would have been my lust taking advantage of his melancholy and grief for his sister. I saw the signs, though; a practiced eye can always tell who has got at least half an inclination towards his fellow man, and who hasn’t.

Anyway, next day Roderigo was all contrition at having dragged me away from my duty. We were on the road again, heading north. It was the one direction I didn’t want to go—too close to where Orsino lurked—but I had little choice. If Roderigo’s sister had somehow survived, that’s where she’d have gone. I thought it possible she’d parachuted out with one of the ship’s officers to protect her, and I’d been idiot enough to tell Roderigo so. If there was any chance she was alive, he had to pursue it and I, smitten worse than an old maid, had to pursue him.

Suddenly my handsome lad piped up, as if he’d been thinking long, and come to a difficult decision. “You’ve done more than I could ask any man to do, and I don’t wish to seem ungrateful, but I’m not welcome here and I mean to bear my evils alone.”

“Just tell me where you’re from, lad. And why you talk of bearing evils.” It was all the reply I could manage. I felt like he’d slapped my face, trying to shake me off like a stray dog.

“How can I repay your love by laying any of this on you?” He touched my arm, leaving it there just a fraction too long for simple friendship, too short for my satisfaction. And he’d used the word “love”; surely that wasn’t my ears hearing what they wanted to hear, although I gave myself a stern talking to about getting my hopes up. He probably didn’t mean anything by it, being obviously—from his manners and the tone of his voice—used to the ways of the gentry. That sort of person always speaks in a funny way. Flowery. He went quiet for a while, clearly thinking something through until he came to some momentous decision. “My name isn’t Roderigo—I’m called Sebastian, as was my father before me.”

“Sebastian of Messalina?” I knew all about him, all right. No wonder this lad wanted to keep his name secret on these shores. In the same boat, weren’t we, hiding from our enemies? Things got complicated around the Med, and old rivalries never seemed to be laid to rest. Still, I was glad I’d warranted being taken into his confidence.

“The same.” Words tumbled out from him now that the dam of secrecy had been breached. I heard it all. His birth, as one of twins. His father’s death. He rambled on about his sister, Viola, who could have been his double, he said, except that she was accounted beautiful. I resisted any temptation to say, “But you’re beautiful, too.”

His story guttered out into bitter tears of grief, because Viola had almost certainly met her death in that wreck, and he knew it no matter how much he was determined to keep looking for her. I tried to keep his spirits up, yet still didn’t hold out much hope that we’d find her again.

“If you won’t do something daft like murder me for my devotion, let me be your servant.” I wasn’t sure I actually meant to speak the words rather than just think them, but my treacherous tongue had run before me. I was just glad Soames wasn’t there to hear me, and not just because I was a bit flowery—that court style of speech was catching. He’d have thought I’d lost my mind, captain of the ship abasing himself like the lowest powder monkey.

I’m not sure I really heard most of Sebastian’s answer, until the final bit brought me up with a round turn.

“I am bound to Count Orsino’s court and I’m determined to walk there alone.” He held out his hand for me to shake. “I do thank you for all your help—I will always be in your debt.” And then, not even waiting for me to make that handshake, he was off and away along the road at a canter. I should have known then that he was a flighty colt.

Orsino’s court? To go there would be certain death, for both of us. I watched him walk off—fifty yards away now, frock coat swirling at his back like a dog’s tail. An angry, frightened dog. I beat myself to quarters and started to follow—how could I not go as well?

By the time we’d reached what passed for civilisation around there, he’d stopped trying to fob me off. He kept thanking me for my kindness—and I kept thanking my luck for having come across him. He asked me about my travels, and I was delighted to spin him a yarn or two, although I avoided tales of my privateering days. I was certain, given what family he came from, that he was no friend to the Count, but I couldn’t be sure I hadn’t fallen foul of his own kin at some point in my highly colourful career.

“You’ve seen so much of the world.” He stopped, looking about him as if seeing the landscape for the first time. “I feel like I’ve gone through life with my eyes closed. Viola was always the adventurous one. I had my nose stuck in a book, too often. I wish I’d had the nerve to go to sea or take to the air.”

“Keep moving. It’s not the weather for standing still and thinking philosophically,” I said, taking his arm and getting us walking again. “And take my word for it that being a young lad aboard a ship—sea or sky—isn’t all the fun it’s cracked up to be.” Shame, though. I’d have had him as one of my junior officers any time he wanted. It’d be a real pleasure to have that face to admire on the long journey along the Spice Trail, even though it would come with the disadvantage that I’d never get to bed him. ‘Don’t mess on your own doorstep.’ They’ve always been my watchwords. Not that I had any great hopes of getting him into my bed; that inkling I’d got about the lad notwithstanding. If he was that way inclined, Sebastian could have his pick of lads, with his looks and his breeding. What would he see—beyond companionship—in a frosty old air-dog, a good ten years, and the rest, his senior?

“Being at court isn’t all the fun they pretend it is.” He gave me one of his rare, dazzling smiles, all dark flashing eyes and rosy lips. No wonder they called his sister beautiful if she resembled him. “You’re expected to drink in the politics and protocol with your mother’s milk, but I’ve never grasped them. They think me naïve and inconstant.”

I had to hide my smile. He’d described himself perfectly. “We’ll be needing all our diplomacy skills if we fetch up at Count Orsino’s.” He’d favoured me with a secret, so I returned the compliment. “I’ve blotted my copybook here, and they’ll not welcome me with open arms. Anywhere other than the jail.” I told him the story of the Tiger as we walked.

“Then your coming with me is madness. My family is no friend to Orsino’s, but I don’t think I risk my neck by throwing myself on his mercy for my sister’s sake.” He stopped again, cheeks flushed with either high emotion or the raw wind. “I can’t repay your kindness by drawing you into danger. Why should you take such a risk?”

Aye, that was the question. Hadn’t I asked it of myself a dozen times a day since we’d set down to rescue him? And despite how many times I’d asked it, I’m not sure I had a proper answer; not one that made sense either in my head or out of it. Certainly not one I could tell Sebastian, not yet. “I’ve always had a fondness for looking after waifs and strays,” I said, hoping he’d just laugh and walk on.

“Ah, but there’s a world of difference between charity and recklessness.” He looked serious again. “I wouldn’t want you on my conscience. If anything happened.” He took my arm—I’d have followed him to the ends of the earth at that moment, just so long as we stayed linked like that.

“I can look after myself, lad.” I could barely get my words out. Me, used to barking orders and having them obeyed without argument, now sounding like some tongue-tied lass. “I’ve plans of my own. Trust me.”

He looked at me, nodded, then we walked on once more, not talking. I was glad of that; I wasn’t sure I trusted my tongue not to say stupid things like, “I love you, lad. Let’s turn round right now and find ourselves a ship to somewhere else. I’ll look after you.”

Sebastian was the one who eventually broke the silence and his voice was so quiet I had to ask him to repeat himself. “I said that I’m sorry I tried to shake you off. I didn’t mean to be so rude.”

“Don’t fret. You’ve had a lot to worry over.” I put my arm around his shoulder; he didn’t shrug it off. We walked on, huddled against the cold. I wouldn’t have minded a storm blowing in from the nor’east if it meant I could keep him close to me. I thought to ask him about his childhood but reckoned that would be sailing too close to the wind. Instead I let him pick my memories again, telling him tales of sea and air like I’d regale a child. In the end he seemed almost happy, although I’m not sure how much of that was putting on a brave face for my sake. I just kept hoping a lot of the things he did were for my sake.

ACT ONE, SCENE THREE

By the time the light was going, we came across a nice looking inn, about a day’s walk from Orsino’s estate, and decided we should put up for the night. I had plenty of money in my pocket so we could be choosy, although in those parts there wasn’t a lot of choice to be had. We could have had a room each, there being space and money to spare, but the lad wouldn’t have it. He said he needed the company as his dreams had been disturbed. I knew that was true, although I suspected the story was more for the inn-keeper’s benefit than mine.

Again, I tried to be considerate, trying not to watch him while he stripped his jacket and britches, although the glimpses I caught in the mirror took my breath away. He had a fine, lean frame and I’d have given half my kingdom to kiss his bruises better.

With that disturbing, tempting, memory in mind, I made sure I kept to my side of the bed while we went to sleep, but the lamp hadn’t been out above five minutes when he turned to me and into my waiting arm, curling into my embrace so sweet and tender, more like a trusting child than a lover.

And I held him like a child, at first, because I couldn’t be sure if he just wanted comfort; maybe the memories of his sister had come flooding back and left him sad. If I’d been able to conjure her up right there and then I would have done, if only to make him happy. I’d have been content to share him with her. I’d gone to sleep the night before with thoughts of them reunited, living together as bachelor and old maid and me having stewardship of their estate. Not as good as me having stewardship of Sebastian’s bed, but I’d have settled for anything that let me serve him.

He was the one who opened the engagement, if you get my drift. Just a bit of fondling my arm to start with and then a kiss on my cheek. So light that I wasn’t sure at first that it was anything more than an accidental contact, nothing meant by it. The second kiss showed he was in earnest—smack on my lips, no mistaking what he wanted. I must have given myself away good and proper for him to have come on so, and know I wasn’t going to black his eye for trying it on.

I hadn’t realised I’d been so bloody obvious, but I suppose he’d have had to be blind not to notice something in the way I looked, or have put two and two together about why I was dogging his steps. I just hoped he really liked me and it wasn’t just a case of any port in the proverbial storm. They can be a funny lot in these foreign parts and you never know what passed for custom around where Sebastian came from. I’ve heard some funny tales about what they get up to in these places; things that would make Queen Victoria’s hair stand on end.

Of course I responded, to him, though—not too much at first because I didn’t want him to see just how eager I was. A man’s got to retain some sort of pride. But once he’d got the idea I was interested, there was no stopping him. I swear that moment, the one when I was certain sure we were going the whole route, was like Christmas and birthdays, and getting the biggest load of spices and silk home all in one piece, had come at once.

That first proper kiss had been as sweet as any I’ve ever had. In my younger days I used to kiss the maids—before I saw the error of my ways and found out what made my capstan turn. He kissed like they’d done. Soft and shy. Maybe he’d seen his sister with one of her swains and copied her, first time around, then carried on the practice. I can’t imagine anyone on the receiving end complaining.

He knew what he was about—he’d been along these channels before. That pleased me, because I don’t ever like to think I’m acting as pilot for some innocent who’s going to end up getting upset or frightened in uncharted territory. That in itself would have been enough to stay my hand with Sebastian, although I shouldn’t have worried. It turned out he’d got enough skill and experience to make it sweet, and to remember to keep nice and quiet while he was about it.

Making love in an inn by candlelight; that made me feel like a midshipman again. Captains have their privileges; a big room, a big cot bed and someone to warm the sheets without anyone stopping you having any of them is one privilege I appreciate. Captain’s word is law, especially when it applies to his cabin. But this was different, with not just the thrill of making the first moves in the engagement but the added frisson of having to take care so that we didn’t have the innkeeper banging on the door, or calling the guard out to haul us away.

“Easy, Sebastian,” I remember saying at one point, when he’d got me on my back and was charting a course down my chest. “We don’t want to touch down at our home port before we’ve played the expedition out.”

He seemed amused by my prose, laughing and kissing me on the lips again. “You’ve a funny way with words, Antonio. Don’t ever lose it.”

I lost the ability to say anything at all, funny or not, when he started making a chart of my body again. Although I wasn’t sure what he wanted to do at the end of his voyage of discovery—you can’t assume that everyone else has exactly the same tastes as you, even if both of you run against the grain.

There’s more than one way to skin a cat. Or bring a man to the height of ecstasy. Still, we worked it out between us and by good fortune what I preferred fitted, if you’ll excuse the pun, with what he liked.

Sebastian fell asleep soon afterwards, exhausted from our sport and still bearing the wearying effects of grief. I held him close, watching him by the meagre moonlight, too happy for sleep to claim me for a while. He’d surprised me yet again, taking such control of the engagement, not like some of the young men I’d had the benefit of taking to my cabin. How many of them hadn’t been able to forget my rank, even though I’d always been careful not to choose one who’d ever been on my muster? You can tire of all that “Yes sir, no sir”. Deferring too much takes almost all the pleasure away. Sebastian had always treated me like an equal, despite all his earlier words about being in my debt. It didn’t occur to me at the time that this outpouring of affection might just have been a case of him having thought of a way to repay me, and close the account.

I thought about that notion plenty of times afterwards.

ACT TWO, SCENE ONE

Next morning, I worried that Sebastian would be ashamed of what we’d done; it’s easy enough to regret in the cold light of day what you’d decided was right in the warm dark of night. But he’d no sooner woken than he was giving me a big hug and a smile. I hardly remember a thing about breakfast or washing and dressing. I must have been that happy.

The one thing that sticks out was him giving me a huge kiss before we left. “To wish us success on the road,” as he called it, and I returned in kind, “One more for luck”. Old sailor that I was, I should have known better, being too pleased with myself and spitting in the eye of fate. I should have been grateful for small mercies and not wanted more, but hubris won’t listen to reason.

When we got within reach of Orsino’s court, Sebastian was like a big child, smiling and excited. Maybe he really did believe we’d just knock on the door and his sister would answer, or maybe that night in my bed cheered him up. Whatever the cause, I was glad to see him optimistic again. He even fancied a bit of sightseeing, but I wanted to keep my head down, given that my scar didn’t exactly make me inconspicuous.

I reminded him about my days as a privateer and why I was persona non grata in these parts. He was all concern then, advising me not to walk about openly. As if I needed such advice. I’d been twice around the world as a cabin boy before Sebastian had even been born. It was touching, though, when he put his arm round me and kissed my cheek, like a son might do, even though I’d have had to have whelped young to have been his sire. Still, it doesn’t do to show too much affection in public, so I distracted him with the gift of my purse.

He eyed it warily, like he thought I was paying him off, maybe for the services he’d rendered. “What’s this for?”

“I thought you might want to treat yourself to something. A good luck charm, maybe. You must have lost a wealth of things when your ship fell to earth.” That wasn’t well put, seeing as it would have reminded him of his sister, but he didn’t seem to notice my clumsiness with words. “I’ll go and find us digs at the Elephant. I’ve heard it keeps a good table and clean beds.”

“You swear you’ll keep your head down?”

“I will.” I made the promise, although if I’d known what was going to happen next, I’d have said to hell with the risk and gone with him every step of the way.

Hindsight, eh?

It was a woman caused the problem, of course. Two women, this time, to make it doubly complicated, and I was the one who ran into them first. Irony on top of “perception after the fact” or whatever complicated thing they’d call it in a court of law. And I didn’t even realise one of them was a woman—so add short-sightedness or senility into the bargain. Whatever it was, fate was trying to mock me.

I’d put our dunnage, such as it was, at the Elephant and I’d decided to take the air, in spite of my promise to Sebastian and thoughts for my own safety. How could I stay in the room looking at the double bed, and not think of what he and I could be getting up to in it? So I took a walk, keeping myself to myself and thinking, until I found that I’d gone too far and lost my bearings.

There was an old couple working a little plot of land where I’d fetched up, so naturally I asked them where I was. They said I was down by the Lady Olivia’s house—she’s the first woman in the case. If I’d known then that Count Orsino was sweet on her I’d have stirred my stumps somewhere else, just in case he was lurking anywhere close. But the old folks didn’t mention that; they just said she was a kindly woman, in mourning for her brother, and she’d not begrudge a man in uniform the pleasure of walking through her demesne. I couldn’t see the harm in it, either—shame I can’t make such good judgements on land as I do in the air.

I’ve often wondered since then what would have happened if I’d sat tight at the inn. Maybe things would have resolved themselves without me knowing anything about it. My lad would have come straight back to me with a strange tale to tell and I’d have been saved a barrel of heartache. Maybe it would have turned for the worst and I’d have just found myself high and dry. You can’t try to double guess fate.

Anyway, imagine my shock, rounding a corner of a pleasant avenue of cypresses, to see Sebastian there, in the Lady Olivia’s garden. And getting himself into mischief by the look of it. Sword drawn against a great long streak of a thing, more scarecrow than man. I’d have bet my lad against him any day in a straight fight, but looks can be deceptive, and I didn’t want Sebastian risking his pretty neck. Especially when things have the potential to turn nasty and swords find themselves replaced by a pistol some kind person happens to draw from under his coat.

“Stop that right there or else you’ll have me to answer to.” I drew my own blade, with a flourish.

The streak of water’s fat friend, who looked like he could take care of himself in a fair fight despite the fact he also looked three quarters gone on drink, challenged me. At least I think he did, given that what he actually said was, “You sir? Why, what are you?” Now, I was handy enough at translating the local language, but these nobles talk so fancy that even if you get the words, they still make no sense.

“What am I? What am I?” My blood was boiling by then, at being babbled at and at seeing my lad so abused, and I spoke a bit freer than I normally would, although I hoped Sebastian would note my words. “One, sir, that for this lad’s love dares do more than you’ve heard him brag he will.” See, I can’t just speak the language, I can put on a bit of the court argot, if I want to.

Next thing I knew, before I could even get into a proper sort of a scrap, the constables arrived. I guessed I’d been spotted en route and they’d been tipped off. I pleaded mistaken identity, swearing that I couldn’t possibly be the Antonio they wanted, but they weren’t having any of it. I was a marked man, just as I’d told Sebastian, and I’d paid for my folly. I thought I might be able to bribe my way out—I’ve greased palms before and a powerful tool it’s proved. But when I asked Sebastian for the money I’d given him he played dumb. He made out like he didn’t know me, and the best he could do was offer to lend me some small change.

What makes someone turn like that? He’d been all lovey-dovey that very morning, and now it was heave-ho time. I could understand him not wanting to let on what we’d been to each other—that was just common sense—but to deny our friendship entirely? He was clearly watching his own back, distancing himself from a wanted man and, while I could understand the instinct for self-preservation, somehow I’d expected better of him. The tears stinging my eyes couldn’t stop me seeing the look on his face clearly enough. By God, he must have been a better actor than I’d given him credit for, because you’d have sworn he didn’t know me. Maybe he’d been acting in our bed, as well, all his sweet words nothing but an act. To cover up that all he was doing was repaying me for saving his life. No fool like an old fool, eh?

“Will you take what I can lend? It’s all I possess.” Sebastian offered me a few pennies. He surely couldn’t have spent all I’d given him, not in that short a time, so I was certain that was another lie to add to all the ones he was using to build a wall between us. Unless he’d spent it all on a woman, of course. Easy enough to run through a mint of money on painted whores—I’d seen that often enough with my officers.

I tried to argue, but he wouldn’t listen and I gave up trying. The Count’s men could carry me away to prison, for all I cared at that point. I’d been duped by a pretty face—me, Captain Antonio, who’d been offered doe-eyed perfumed boys in the harems of the orient and said “no” to all of them, not wanting to pay for my pleasures or be beholden to any man for favouring me with them. “Hard nosed Antonio” as my men thought of me.

Well, I wasn’t so hard-nosed now.

ACT TWO, SCENE TWO

I sat in my cold cell, dragging my cloak around me for want of other comfort, and cursing myself all ways to buggery for being such a naïve fool, letting a money grasping wanton of a lad get the better of me. I couldn’t see a way out—neither escaping my cell nor untangling the mess—so the only option I’d have was to throw myself on Orsino’s mercy. And I wasn’t sure he’d have much of that to offer.

Even if I had been able to overpower the guard when he came to give me my broth, what could I have done? I was right in the middle of the town and would have had to skirt either Olivia’s or Orsino’s estates to get back towards the coast or an airfield. I considered taking my chances on the road, but that risked seeing him. By which I don’t mean Orsino, all he could do was break my body. I mean Sebastian, who was still playing on my heart like wind on rudder. I’d kept my ears open while I’d been frogmarched here and the constables had said my lad was staying with the Count. I knew he was a quick worker, but that was lightning fast, abandoning me at the inn and inveigling himself into the man’s service.

At least he’d had the sense to adopt another name and hide his heritage, like he’d done with me. Oh yes—I’d heard them call him Cesario, so that was the third name I had for the lad. Or four; you could add “underhanded bastard” to the list.

I even started wondering if he’d worked the same tricks on Orsino as he had on me, tormenting myself with the thought of Sebastian offering to warm the man’s bed as I lay cold and alone in my cell. But that was just my anger cranking itself up—the policemen had made enough lewd remarks about Orsino’s affection for the Lady Olivia to assure me that his interests lay on traditional lines.

And I missed my lad. Like my ship misses the breeze when she’s down at the aerodrome, or tethered waiting to be reloaded. I dreamed about him, stuck in the cell, and I’d not cared a whit that I might have called out for him in my sleep. I’d got used to having him at my side to lie against, warm body on warm body. I’d missed seeing his handsome face by the morning light, the sweet smile when he opened his eyes. Being the first person he spoke to. I was beginning to think none of it meant anything to him.

Still, I didn’t have long to brood—the constable was soon back, dragging me out of the cell and off to Olivia’s again, muttering about me being the only one able to sort some bloody mess out, even if I was filthy pirate scum. Only he put the last bit a lot less politely. Seems like my lad was in trouble again, and this time he’d sent for me to vouch for him.

I fought back the overwhelming urge to tell the constable Sebastian could go fuck himself for all I cared. Maybe there was a speck of hope, after all, hull up on the horizon?

ACT TWO, SCENE THREE

I’m not a melodramatic man, and I’ve never been one for the theatre, but what greeted my eyes when we arrived at Olivia’s house was nothing short of a tableau. Everyone standing around open mouthed, as if they’d been frozen in position, waiting for me and the constable to arrive. We were greeted with a sudden thaw, everybody gesticulating and talking at once. It was clear which one was Olivia—she’d be reckoned a beauty by any man. The streak of water and his fat friend were capering about. Orsino was standing looking thunder at everyone, especially at me, and my lad was looking pensive.

“Antonio. Tell them I wasn’t in this place before yesterday,” Sebastian started, as if he wanted to come towards me, but Olivia held him back. The sight of her hand on his arm, proprietarily, made my blood boil.

“Aye, that’s right. You can go and ask at the inn where we stowed our dunnage. Or the one we stayed at the night before.”

“I told them that. They said I’d been here longer, staying with Orsino.”

The Count looked daggers at everyone, as though they were all guilty of playing some trick on him “He’s been paying court to the Lady Olivia on my behalf, these last few days. Or I thought it was on my behalf. It seems like he’s been putting in some work on his own account.”

The lady blushed, but she stared Orsino out. “Just because I’ve found his face and words more to my liking than yours!”

Sebastian looked at her, horrified. “But I keep telling you—the first time I met you was but yesterday.” He turned to me. “My lady has some notion in her head that I’ve been wooing her. Even yester eve when I was at The Elephant, alone, she swears I was here, paying court.”

I couldn’t vouch for that, as I’d been locked in my cold cell, although I’d have sworn my lad was telling the truth. Yet why should she lie? And why should Orsino back her up, inventing a rival when there could be none?

Sometimes the bloody obvious shouts at us but we don’t—or won’t—hear it. Sebastian and I both had the key; we’d been staring the truth in the face and it had struck us blind. Now I could see clearly.

“My lady. My lord,” I said, as politely and courteously as I could manage. “Will you send to your houses and enquire whether Cesario is still at one of them?”

“You mock us, sir.” Orsino’s voice was even colder. “We have the miscreant here.”

“I don’t think you do.” I turned to my lad. “Sebastian. Your sister—didn’t you say she was your image?”

“Sister?” Everyone spoke the word at the same time, in the same horrified way. All except my lad, who spoke it with reverence. “Viola? Can my Viola be alive?”

We didn’t have long to wait to find out. The streak of water’s fat friend had found her—she’d heard the news of her double appearing from thin air and was already coming to find us. And double it was; I’m not sure any of us could believe our eyes when we saw the pair side by side.

“Sebastian!” She was straight into his arms, full of wonder at his having survived, each of them sharing their story. Or as much of the story as my lad dared reveal.

Two of them, as like as the two halves of an apple, or—what was it my old engineer on the privateer used to say—as two cogs on a gear. She certainly was his image, her strength and diamond hard brightness reflecting his grace and gentleness. When they’d grown inside their mother, had their qualities mingled? And had each emerged neither boy nor girl but some strange fusion of both? No wonder she’d made a successful suitor and no wonder Olivia had fallen for her.

Orsino seemed bewitched, too; he was looking from Viola to Sebastian and back again, astounded. I did wonder for a moment if he was going to try his arm with my boy—you can’t be too sure they don’t still have droit de seigneur or whatever they call the heathen custom in these parts—when I realised he was delighted at finding his page had been a girl all the time. I bet he’d had some troubled dreams, being attracted by her and feeling it was all wrong. Cursing himself for wanting something he could never—should never—have. He could have her now, if she wanted him, and then I could have my lad back

As so often, I thought too soon.

“Cesario…Viola. I see now that what I loved in you was but a foretaste of this moment. The fates meant it to be.” Olivia drew herself up, looking like a fine figurehead gracing the prow of an old sailing ship. She turned to Sebastian, gesturing with her hand. “What I would have given her but could not, I offer thee instead. My love, my fealty, my fortune.”

My lad looked as if he couldn’t believe his luck. He’d his sister by his side and a lady—a rich and handsome lady—throwing herself at his feet, offering him half her estate, and the chance to get his shoes under her bed. I thought he was bound to shrug me off, and who could blame him?

What had I to offer that might equally tempt a young lad? I’d made a tidy sum over the years, but “not being short of a penny” doesn’t compare to the sorts of riches she had. And she had the advantage of respectability, whereas nobody was going to wed Sebastian and me in a big church in the sight of God and congregation. I kept telling myself I was nothing but a millstone around his neck. If Orsino’s position regarding Sebastian’s family might soften if he loved the maid, then perhaps he’d seek to have double revenge on poor Antonio, to compensate. What young man was going to risk making an alliance with me and thereby endanger his neck?

But he surprised me, just as he’d surprised me in that bed in the inn.

“My lady,” he said, bowing stiffly, as he must have been taught when naught but a boy. That put heart into me; I’d seen him like that before and it always meant he was about to deliver bad news, like the morning when he’d tried to lose me en route here. “I may be my sister’s image but I have not her generosity of heart. I could offer you nothing that a lady of your great beauty deserves.”

“I ask for nothing. I simply offer all. The rest will come.” Olivia had spirit—she wasn’t going to let him go that easily, now that she’d lost his sister.

“You loved Viola—and no man or woman would blame you, as she’s the rarest beauty this side of the ocean.”

I thought he was sailing dangerous waters there, because the Lady Olivia was supposed to be the fairest in all Illyria. There was a sharp look in her eye which suggested she thought the same, but he pressed on.

“Don’t fall for me, my lady. I’m a pale imitation of the real thing.” They were clever words, hiding a wealth of meaning some of which maybe only I would catch.

“Then I see I must lose twice over,” Olivia said, colouring. I thought he’d—we’d—won but she played her trump card. “But I won’t be the only loser. This pirate,” she looked daggers at me, as though she knew exactly why the lad wouldn’t have her, “is he not the same as caused such harm to your nephew, my lord?”

Of course she knew the answer to that question—we all did, or else why had I been locked up? That distinctive bloody scar; it must have been the talk of Illyria. Well, that was it. All hope lost.

Now, as you’ll have guessed, I’ve never been a great one for the ladies—known too many of them, high born or low, to be bitches—but young Viola hadn’t just got her brother’s face. She had his nobility of spirit, too. Maybe more noble than he was, considering how many merry dances he’d led me since I’d rescued him.

“A man may change,” she said quietly. “This man saved my brother. In doing so he mended my heart. For that service, will you forgive Captain Antonio his crimes, my lord? For my sake?” She made as if to kneel before Orsino, but he caught her in time, shaking his head and refusing to let her demean herself.

“You will not kneel to me, my lady. I will forgive both your family and this man for your sake.” He kissed her hand and drew her to him. In her man’s garb she looked naught but a boy in his arms. Nobody seemed to be bothered, even though they’d have had kittens if I’d done that to her brother. “They shall have their freedom, if you will give up yours.” He looked as if he was making a threat but we all knew by now what was likely to be coming next. “By binding yourself to me.”

See? As I said, they have funny ways in these great courts. Posh words, barrels full of intrigue, girls dressed as boys and everyone playing tricks on each other like a load of children. Give me the skies and making an honest living any day. And I’d rather have my lad and the rough and ready words of courtship we’d spoken above all the so-called words of love I’d heard here.

“I will, my lord.” Viola gave Orsino a resounding kiss, the sort of sweet, deep kiss that her brother had been kind enough to give me. Maybe he had learned that skill from her, after all.

EPILOGUE

In the months to come I found myself poacher not just turned gamekeeper but estate steward with it. Sebastian returned home and installed me as manager of his fleet of trading airships—and his own private pilot, too, when the whim took us. But I’m getting ahead of myself again.

After Orsino and Viola made their promise, I knew for certain that Sebastian had chosen me. The pair of us were made guests of the Count—and I don’t mean put up in his prison. I had a room with the servants and Sebastian was housed with the family, although I didn’t mind. I was certain there’d be plenty of time for us to pledge our love to each other again. As often as the bed would take it.

We had time for one short conversation before his sister whipped him away.

“I’m glad at your choice,” I said, desperate to put my hands on him, but forcing myself to behave.

“I’d not have been tempted by the lady,” he said. “I don’t believe in love at first sight.” I held my tongue—maybe in years to come I’d tell him the truth of things. “The next pretty face that came along would likely distract her.”

And I’d proved my constancy, although he didn’t mention that. But he must have realised love wouldn’t be inconstant with me; he knows which side his bread’s buttered, my lad.

I did wonder, in later years, what had happened about Olivia. For all I’d beaten her—fair and square—I didn’t like the thought of any fine lady ending up lonely. I shouldn’t have fretted. Viola kept us up to date with all the news and a year later we were celebrating jointly; the birth of Sebastian’s first nephew and the lady Olivia’s engagement to a lad—even younger than mine!—she’d met on a pilgrimage.

All that’s left to be said is why my story doesn’t quite match what the Bard reported. Well, he always liked to beef the story up, did Shakespeare, and I’m not sure he wanted to make it that plain about me and the lad I’d rescued. See, he’d had his eye on a lad—a handsome lad, pretty enough to be a girl and flighty with it—and I’m not sure how close to home he wanted to play things.

Still, my Sebastian and I knew the truth, and that’s all that matters. What we will, not what you will, Will.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

CHARLIE COCHRANE writes gay fiction, predominantly historical romances/mysteries, but with an increasing number of forays into the modern day. She’s even been known to write about gay werewolves – highly respectable ones. Her ideal day would be a morning walking along a beach, an afternoon spent watching rugby, and a church service in the evening, with her husband and daughters tagging along, naturally. She loves reading, theatre, good food, and watching sport. Charlie was named Author of the Year 2009 by the review site Speak Its Name.

You can find Charlie on the internet at:

http://www.charliecochrane.co.uk

http://charliecochrane.livejournal.com

MLR PRESS AUTHORS

Featuring a roll call of some of the best writers of gay erotica and mysteries today!

Derek Adams

Z. Allora

Maura Anderson

Simone Anderson

Victor J. Banis

Jeanne Barrack

Laura Baumbach

Ally Blue

J.P. Bowie

Barry Brennessel

Michael Breyette

Nowell Briscoe

Jade Buchanan

James Buchanan

TA Chase

Charlie Cochrane

Karenna Colcroft

William Cooper

Jamie Craig

Kirby Crow

Ethan Day

Diana DeRicci

Vivien Dean

Taylor V. Donovan

Jason Edding

Theo Fenraven

Angela Fiddler

S.J. Frost

Kimberly Gardner

Michael Gouda

Roland Graeme

Storm Grant

Amber Green

LB Gregg

Kaje Harper

Jan Irving

David Juhren

Thomas Kearnes

Kiernan Kelly

M. King

K-lee Klein

Geoffrey Knight

Christopher Koehler

Matthew Lang

J.L. Langley

Josh Lanyon

Vincent Lardo

Anna Lee

Elizabeth Lister

Clare London

William Maltese

Z.A. Maxfield

Timothy McGivney

Lloyd A. Meeker

Patric Michael

Tere Michaels

AKM Miles

Reiko Morgan

Jet Mykles

William Neale

Cherie Noel

Willa Okati

Brynn Paulin

Neil S. Plakcy

Jordan Castillo Price

Luisa Prieto

Rick R. Reed

A.M. Riley

AJ Rose

Rob Rosen

George Seaton

Riley Shane

Jardonn Smith

Caro Soles

JoAnne Soper-Cook

DH Starr

Richard Stevenson

Liz Strange

Marshall Thornton

Lex Valentine

Maggie Veness

Haley Walsh

Mia Watts

Missy Welsh

Stevie Woods

Ian Young

Lance Zarimba

Mark Zubro

Check out titles, both available and forthcoming, at www.mlrpress.com

THE TREVOR PROJECT

The Trevor Project operates the only nationwide, around-the-clock crisis and suicide prevention helpline for lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and questioning youth. Every day, The Trevor Project saves lives though its free and confidential helpline, its website and its educational services. If you or a friend are feeling lost, alone, confused or in crisis, please call The Trevor Helpline. You’ll be able to speak confidentially with a trained counselor 24/7.

 The Trevor Helpline: 866-488-7386

On the Web: http://www.thetrevorproject.org/

THE GAY MEN’S DOMESTIC VIOLENCE PROJECT

Founded in 1994, The Gay Men’s Domestic Violence Project is a grassroots, non-profit organization founded by a gay male survivor of domestic violence and developed through the strength, contributions and participation of the community. The Gay Men’s Domestic Violence Project supports victims and survivors through education, advocacy and direct services. Understanding that the serious public health issue of domestic violence is not gender specific, we serve men in relationships with men, regardless of how they identify, and stand ready to assist them in navigating through abusive relationships.

GMDVP Helpline: 800.832.1901

On the Web: http://gmdvp.org/

THE GAY & LESBIAN ALLIANCE AGAINST DEFAMATION/GLAAD EN ESPAÑOL

The Gay & Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation (glaad) is dedicated to promoting and ensuring fair, accurate and inclusive representation of people and events in the media as a means of eliminating homophobia and discrimination based on gender identity and sexual orientation.

On the Web: http://www.glaad.org/

glaad en español: http://www.glaad.org/espanol/bienvenido.php

SERVICEMEMBERS LEGAL DEFENSE NETWORK

Servicemembers Legal Defense Network is a nonpartisan, nonprofit, legal services, watchdog and policy organization dedicated to ending discrimination against and harassment of military personnel affected by “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” (dadt).The sldn provides free, confidential legal services to all those impacted by dadt and related discrimination. Since 1993, its inhouse legal team has responded to more than 9,000 requests for assistance. In Congress, it leads the fight to repeal dadt and replace it with a law that ensures equal treatment for every servicemember, regardless of sexual orientation. In the courts, it works to challenge the constitutionality of dadt.

sldn Call: 800-538-7418

PO Box 65301 or (202) 328-FAIR

Washington DC 20035-5301 e-mail: sldn@sldn.org

On the Web: http://sldn.org/

THE GLBT NATIONAL HELP CENTER

The glbt National Help Center is a nonprofit, tax-exempt organization that is dedicated to meeting the needs of the gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender community and those questioning their sexual orientation and gender identity. It is an outgrowth of the Gay & Lesbian National Hotline, which began in 1996 and now is a primary program of The glbt National Help Center. It offers several different programs including two national hotlines that help members of the glbt community talk about the important issues that they are facing in their lives.  It helps end the isolation that many people feel, by providing a safe environment on the phone or via the internet to discuss issues that people can’t talk about anywhere else.  The glbt National Help Center also helps other organizations build the infrastructure they need to provide strong support to our community at the local level.

National Hotline: 1-888-THE-GLNH (1-888-843-4564)

National Youth Talkline 1-800-246-PRIDE (1-800-246-7743)

On the Web: http://www.glnh.org/

e-mail:  info@glbtnationalhelpcenter.org

If you’re a GLBT and questioning student heading off to university, you should know that there are resources on campus for you. Here’s just a sample:

GLBT Scholarship Resources http://www.hrc.org/resources/entry/tell-us-about-an-lgbt-scholarship

Syracuse University

http://lgbt.syr.edu/

Texas A&M

http://glbt.tamu.edu/

Tulane University

http://tulane.edu/studentaffairs/oma/lgbt/index.cfm

University of Alaska http://www.uaf.edu/woodcenter/leadership/organizations/active/index.xml?id=61

University of California, Davis

http://lgbtrc.ucdavis.edu/

University of California, San Francisco

http://lgbt.ucsf.edu/

University of Colorado

http://www.colorado.edu/GLBTQRC/

University of Florida

http://www.multicultural.ufl.edu/lgbt/

University of Hawaiÿi, Mānoa

http://manoa.hawaii.edu/lgbt/

University of Utah

http://www.sa.utah.edu/lgbt/

University of Virginia

http://www.virginia.edu/deanofstudents/lgbt/

Vanderbilt University

http://www.vanderbilt.edu/lgbtqi/