Page 124 of The Pirate and the Pagan
Sidney handed Cat a weapon and she looked in horror at what he had done to Granny. Then she realized she had no choice whatsoever. If they didn’t kill him, they would all die. In unison, Sidney and Cat fell upon him and stabbed his face, his eyes, his throat. His screams of agony were terrible, then, when Gert stabbed him over and over between the legs, his screams rose in a crescendo of agony. Cat was beginning to despair. She knew he could not have sustained a mortal wound if he was making such an outcry. In desperation she felt for the vital artery in his neck. Then with her last ounce of strength and courage she plunged in the splintered stake to rip and sever everything it touched. Sergeant-Major Oswald made an unearthly, gurgling bubbling sound and began to twitch uncontrollably. The four women did not get off him until he lay absolutely still. Beside his body lay that of Granny in a grotesque heap. They had killed him, but not before he had taken another of their pack.
King Charles was furious and humiliated. Dutch war ships had actually broken through the boom strung across the Medway and bold landing parties had silenced the guns of Upnor Castle. Upnor, which was thought to be formidable enough to guard the dog leg on the Medway leading from the lower estuary to where the English fleet lay at anchor in Chatham.
Charles loved ships and the sea and had a good technical knowledge. His navy had always been his pride. In just a few short years, years in which Parliament’s purse strings had been mostly closed, he had built a stronger and bigger navy. It was his plan and the hope of his reign that England should sail supreme, unchallenged mistress of all the waters on earth.
The King’s cousin, Prince Rupert, had the best military mind of the age, and England’s finest soldiers and sailors had always clamored to serve under him. He preferred privateers to regular navy, so Ruark Helford’s Pagan Goddess joined Rupert’s Henrietta to fight off an attack on Sheerness.
The Dutch seized the Royal Charles, captained by William Penn, then sailed up the Medway and set fire to half a dozen man-of-wars. Rupert and Helford concocted a brilliant plan. Under cover of dark they boarded the burning ships, maneuvered them behind the Dutch vessels, and scuttled them so they sank. They made an effective barrier, neatly trapping the Dutch in the tidal waterway. It was rapidly becoming an impasse. The two navies were deadlocked and peace negotiations began in earnest.
The King signed a peace treaty with Holland which gave England all of the Guinea coast of Africa. The Dutch forts along that coast were surrendered to the English, who would now be able to bring out gold without being harassed. The Dutch also agreed to turn over the greatest port in the Americas to England; thus New Amsterdam was renamed New York after the King’s brother.
England yielded the Spice Islands to the Dutch and agreed to confine her eastern trade to India. Rory Helford negotiated two highly secret and private agreements between Charles and Holland, and Charles and France.
On the surface England and Holland drew closer together to form a common resistance to France. Charles, however, had always been friendly to France and accepted money from King Louis in return for a promise to desert Holland and allow English soldiers to join with the French army if war between France and Holland broke out.
He also made a secret treaty with Holland promising that in the event of war he would keep England neutral. An air of victory pervaded the whole of London in general and the court in particular. All things nautical became the rage and ladies wore navy blue sailor dresses with crown and anchor emblems upon them.
Barbara Castlemaine threw a private victory party for the King and her closest friends and caused quite a stir with her specially decorated cakes and confections. She had cakes in the shape of battleships and red, white, and blue victory flags, but Barbara, being Barbara, was not satisfied with merely a nautical theme. She knew what would amuse her prurient-minded guests and ordered small round cakes with white icing and red cherries in the middle designed to resemble female breasts which she promptly dubbed “maids of honor,” and for the gentlemen she caused great merriment with cakes resembling a man’s cock and balls. Then she had the gall to pretend they were supposed to be cannons and cannon-balls.
Later, as she lay abed with Charles, he chuckled. “Nautical doesn’t mean naughty, Barbara. I’ll have to give you some English lessons.”
“Well, I certainly caught on to the French lessons you gave me,” she teased bawdily.
He reached for a delicious red apple from a bowl beside the bed. She snatched it from him playfully. “Oh, no you don’t, I’m not finished with you yet. I have other uses for that sensual mouth of yours.”
“Insatiable wench to make me satisfy your appetite before I satisfy my own.”
“Mayhap we can do both at the same time,” she teased, gripping the apple between her plump knees and lying back against the pillows. “Let’s see if you can finish the apple before a more delectable fruit distracts you.”
As Charles bit into the apple its sweet juice ran down from her knees to the insides of her thighs and his tongue tickled her as he licked it off. He finished off the apple, then lowered himself to lie full length upon her with a laugh and a sigh. “Barbara, you are a delicious baggage.” He kissed her then brushed the dark red curls from her brow. “Pretty too,” he murmured, observing her voluptuous beauty from beneath lowered lids.
“Pretty enough to pose for Brittania on the new Guinea gold pieces?” she asked.
Damn! he thought. Why do women always want something and without fail ask for it in bed? “The model hasn’t been selected yet,” he demurred.
“In that case, you can select me,” she pressed, using both hands to roll his large shaft between her palms.
He groaned. “The final selection rests with the artist, Babs; let’s not talk of it now.”
“Now,” she insisted, brushing his velvety tip with her thumb. “Charles, who has a better right than I?” she demanded.
He realized that she must have gotten wind of his choice of Frances Stewart for Brittania. “Who has a better right?” he repeated. “Why, the Queen, of course,” he said, trying to distract her with a red herring.
“Piffle!” shouted Barbara, pushing at his hard chest to dislodge his body from between her legs. “I know the rabbit-toothed little Queen is the last person you have in mind!”
“Barbara!” he warned.
She ignored his tone of voice completely, working herself into a fine breathless passion. “You’ve chosen that prime little Stewart bitch over me,” she said, her breasts heaving.
He tried to defend his choice. “The artists all agree she has a most noble profile.”
“Oh!” Barbara cried, jumping from the bed and flinging her slippers across the room. “You make a laughingstock of yourself. She teases you with her virginity so you’ll run panting after her.”
“You’re doing a damn good job of cockteasing yourself at this moment,” he complained.
“You beast! How can you call me that when I make myself available to you day and night? If you think for one minute she’d be able to satisfy your lusty appetite, you’re completely mistaken in her. You are as randy and as big as your damned stallion, Old Rowley. Why, that narrow-hipped little bitch wouldn’t even be able to take you. She’d wear white gloves to bed in case she had to handle the beastly thing, and she certainly wouldn’t ‘French’ you whenever you fancied it, like I do.”
“Barbara … darling … come and do it now. Let’s not fight, you know how I hate these scenes,” he pleaded.
