Chapter 49: Chapter 49

FARELL?

There was a smell of fresh hay and noises came from the stables as is usual when the animals were given food. Happy puffing, buckets clattering and boys banter.

Behind the stables lay a modest little cottage with smoke coming out of it, and beyond that, across a vast pasture and fields, lay a villa.

I was impressed. Certainly Armin was too, but he skilfully ignored it. He wasn't good with time pressure... "He must be around here somewhere."

“Sounds like there are more people here. How do you know if it's him? If he doesn't give away his whereabouts, he certainly won't yell here I am when asked."

He turned his gaze darkly to me.

He was bugging me the whole way with his bad mood because he was afraid the ship would leave without him. The whole time he was growling to himself and if he didn't go fast enough, he would scold everyone around him.

"Stop your sarcasm, I know what I'm doing."

"Then let me in on it."

"I've got a specific idea of what it might look like... If that doesn't work, I'll have to improvise."

"Now let's just go to the stables and you pick the guy like you would a horse?"

Armin stopped abruptly and cocked his head grimly. "Senorita..."

I raised my hands in surrender. "All right. After you, love."

Growling, he stomped past me and entered the stables. Occasionally the boys glanced at us, but the interest wasn't great enough for them to do their work.

As a matter of course, Armin strolled through the corridor to the other side of the stable and entered a small courtyard where the one-year-old stallions had their cubicles. A blond man with broad shoulders and a straw in his mouth stood at one of the boxes and eyed the stubborn animal, which nodded its head wildly and stamped its hoof.

"Keep going..."

"Hello." Armin greeted loudly.

The man turned around leisurely. "Can I help?"

"Leonard, my name, that's my sister Ruth." Armin explained. He smiled like a wolfish one, like he always does when he's planning something.

The man looked at Armin. "And further?"

"I need to talk to someone in confidence. Who may understand numbers and money."

"If you want to buy a horse, you should go up to the house."

Armin nodded slowly. "So am I just introducing myself as Leonard upstairs? Leonard Farrell?"

The avoidable farell kept chewing his straw as if nothing happened. "Now do you want a horse or not?"

Armin nodded, still convinced. I wasn't sure anymore. We were just wasting time we didn't have. Farell gestured at the stubborn year-old behind him.

"How about you take a closer look at this one. Leonard." He opened the box and joined Armin and me to the increasingly nervous prancing stallion. He looked closely at Armin, who was now waiting much more expressionlessly. "So you know who I am?"

Armin nodded. "Farell, who knows everything that happens in the port."

Farell looked at Armin as indifferently as Armin himself did. "What do you need?"

"I have some wool that I want to sell dearly. And I need new goods. Good stuff for little to no money."

"Nonsense, that doesn't work. I'm sorry, I could certainly help you if you want to steal a horse, but-"

"Either it works, or I visit Leonard again."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"He looks a lot like you. Same nose, same hair... Unmistakable."

Farell stared at Armin as if considering jumping on his neck.

"Look out man, I don't want anything from your rascals. But I don't want to starve at home. I have to sell my wares and buy useful ones. So?"

"How ruthless do you have to be to threaten a child?"

Armin shook his head. "I already told you I don't want anything from him. However, I have a household for which I am responsible. All I want from you is to do what you do best."

Farell nodded. "I want you to keep it a secret."

"I have no intention of losing my leverage."

"I'll see what I can do."

"Even today. Because today my ship is leaving again."

Farell sighed in exasperation. "It's getting close... Do you want to sell the new goods too?"

"No, I'm taking her to England."

After a moment, Farell shook hands with Armin and spat his straw into the hay. "I need time until sunset. I'll come to the port with a buyer."

Just as the sun was beginning to set, a farell, limping and in rags, emerged from a baar. A young unsuspecting cloth apprentice followed him.

He bought everything from Armin for twice what the wool was actually worth. It was not cheap wool, but expensive material. Armin suspected that fat Harrison Scott, from whom we had taken the wool, had probably planned some criminal venture with it himself.

The new goods, which Armin casually had loaded onto the ship, were fabrics, wine, corn and bacon. Also wood and oats.

Farell got a quarter of the apprentice's earnings. He had now given up his mask and shook Armin's hand, kissed the back of my hand and wanted to dive again. But Armin gave him a sack of grain. "Bring it to your boys."

The Irishman grinned. "She'll be happy about that."

"Is the nun Ruth his mother?" I asked.

But he shook his head. "I loved his mother. But she died of a fever while he was being born. I was young and had an infant. Got a foothold in a shady business... When he was just under three months old I took him to the convent. I can always see him that way, but my enemies can't."

"Will you tell him?"

Almost desperately, the otherwise strong-looking man avoided my gaze. "I... think he'll be better off never finding out. If I'm the funny guy who always brings him a ball and shoes and food instead of the dad who's never around, I don't worry and he has a chance to do something different than me for once. If nobody knows what his father makes money with, nobody can bother him."

Armin grinned. "He looks a hell of a lot like you though."

Farell straightened proudly, slung the sack over his shoulder, and made a sarcastic servant. "Have the honor. Good ride."

Even long after the ship had drifted back to sea, Jacob was sleeping next to us on his straw mattress and Armin was calculating his winnings, the story of Farell and his boys gave me no peace.

"I wish I could someday find out what will become of little Leonard."

Armin absentmindedly agreed. "It would be good for him if he knew. He eyed me like an idol when I was in the monastery."

"It's good that you gave him the corn."

"Bread for the rest of the month."

I slid onto his lap and forced him to look up from his calculations. "You were lucky that you found him right away."

"It's called being able, baby."

Even he had to laugh.

35

FOREIGN IMAGE

Isabella stood at the railing, staring at the rising sun on the horizon reflected on the sea. It was a beautiful sight. When Armin approached her with a bit of breakfast, she recoiled slightly as if deep in thought.

"Good morning."

She smiled sadly. She probably hoped Armin wouldn't notice. "Good morning." She looked at the bread in Armin's hand and made a face. "Sorry, I missed the time."

"Oh, forget it." He handed her half and leaned against the railing next to her. "What do you have?"

"Nothing."

"No, Isabella. Don't start like that."

She looked at his expression in confusion.

"I mean don't start hiding things from me just yet."

She shrugged a little indignantly. "But it's nothing. Nothing important, at least."

"It doesn't matter." He smiled and leaned his upper body closer to her. "I'm curious. Tell me."

She grinned and put a hand on his chest and pushed him away again. "The hell, Armin." Then she shook her head slightly. "It's just homesickness. But I don't know what home I miss... Isn't that crazy?"

Armin cocked his head. "Torn between Spain and England?"

Isabella nodded but couldn't get a word out. As if she suddenly had a lump in her throat. Armin felt terrible. As if he were responsible, because somehow it was.

She was torn away from Spain. Away from her friends, her family and, last but not least, foreign music. Armin hadn't forgotten where he first saw his wife. That she had danced so spiritedly and completely self-forgotten to a strange and fast music.

There were nowhere near such instruments in England. And if you could dance so passionately, you had to miss this kind of music as well as a family member.

And in England she had made friends. Maybe built a little nest. And now she was gone from there again.

"Do you want to go back?"

"Where to?" she murmured hoarsely, turning the piece of bread over in her hands.

"Home. where that is with you Spain, England... Wherever you go, I'll take you."

Isabella grinned and wrapped her arms around his stomach and rested her chin on his shoulder. "No, we'll do it the way you thought we'd do it. I like the plan."

"Armin?" Jacob stepped up to them. "I wanted to apologize... I said a lot that I didn't mean."

Isabella and Armin exchanged a wary look. They weren't quite sure yet whether he could be trusted or not. Besides, they couldn't explain why he came to apologize.

But Armin smiled, hoping everything was over. "Let's forget it."

The boy looked at his shoes. "Actually, I wanted to ask you something again." When he looked up, he looked contrite. "I know it's cheeky, after everything you've already done."

Armin waved him off. "What do you need?"

"Please don't tell father what happened to Mory." Isabella broke away from Armin. "I don't want him to know about it. I'm embarrassed."

Armin nodded. "I must think about it."

Jac nodded and smiled shyly. "Are we okay?"

The older one ran his fingers through Jacob's black hair. "Naturally."

Grinning, Jacob turned away and went his way again. Instead, Arthur strolled towards her. "Campbell."

"Moor."

Arthur bowed to me with a grin. "Senorita."

Armin gritted his teeth angrily and tried to appear calm. He hated it when Arthur called me that. It was Armin's nickname for me. And no one, least of all Arthur Moor, had the right to use it.

I loved it when Armin pissed me off about it.

"Did you find out anything?" Armin mumbled quietly.

Arthur got serious. "Everything Armin. We should talk."

Armin looked around, put a hand on my back and led us one floor down into the pantry. Between pickles and eggs, we should remain uneavesdropped.

Seeing Arthur and Armin standing so calmly next to each other was a strange sight. And yet it gave me the impression that the two wouldn't be a bad combination.

“Grand wears a locket around his neck. There's something in there that he uses to make a brew. He wants me to come over and try it today."

I noticed that Armin had something against it, but he said nothing about it. "So around his neck..."

"I'll bust him."

Armin leaned against a gherkin barrel and nodded slowly.

"How are we going to prove it's Mory's stuff?"

"It's easy. I'll just take the necklace and show it to Durham. Everyone's seen him with that thing."

Armin nodded and exchanged a look with me. "And what do you want when it's all over?"

Arthur growled and rolled his eyes. "I'm starting to get offended, Armin. I've told you a thousand times; I'm doing this for Jacob. Not for you or me."

Every conversation with the two ended in the same way. I was surprised that Armin wasn't tired yet.

Armin shrugged and gestured for me to go ahead. "See you."

Back on deck, Armin leaned towards me. "I do not trust him..."

"Give him a chance, Armin..."

Armin's black eyes looked sad. "No. Not this time."

THE MEDALLION

Armin had let himself be seduced by Isabella. Actually, he had been too nervous. The worry that Arthur would change sides after all made him very uneasy.

Because right at that moment, Arthur was sitting with Mory Grand and secretly trying to steal the locket from him. It all depended on Arthur. That was especially terrible for Armin.

But the senorita knew exactly how to distract her husband. And that's why Armin just let it happen and enjoyed his luck.

Her pointed fingers restlessly traced his back up to his shoulders, where they rested while she arched the small of her back and pressed her beautiful breasts against him.

A shudder went through him, then he sank onto his forearms in relief and buried his face in her narrow neck.

Isabella clung to him, still a bit dazed, panting softly.

After a while, he rolled over next to her and emptied half the wineskin.

„Armin..."

„Hm?"

"Do you know where we're sailing next?"

"Scotland would be planned." He smiled at her. Her hair was scattered wildly around her pretty face on the bed. Her eyes gleamed in the dim candlelight. "But first the Elizabeth is stopping in England."

Abruptly, Isabella sat up and held the thin blanket in front of her chest. "I beg your pardon? Why Britain?"

Armin apparently casually pulled the covers down again. "I want to go home."

She flicked his hand away. "Liar."

He grinned caught and twisted a strand of her hair between his thumb and forefinger. "You said we'll do it my way. That's my plan, senorita."

"Stop grinning..."

Armin continued to grin. "How come?"

"Because I hate your dimples..."

With an abrupt jerk, he pulled his wife back onto him.

"No, you love her."

Isabella wrinkled her snub nose. "I never liked her."

"But you kiss her quite often when we're in bed together."

Her bright laugh rang out, then she nodded. "Are you just going to yap me down, or can I expect more."

Still grinning, Armin narrowed his eyes and jokingly grabbed her round bottom.

Then someone pounded softly on the door. "Armin!" it was Ari. "Something's wrong! You have to hurry up and come quickly!"

Immediately they both jumped out of bed and grabbed their clothes. "Get away, Ari! Get yourself somewhere with Jacob until it's all over!"

"What happens now?" asked the ten-year-old.

"I have no idea, but better safe than sorry."

And just as Armin had fastened his belt buckle, there was a louder knock on the door. "Campbell."

This time it was Durham's voice.

Isabella grabbed his hand quickly, but tried to look calm. But it didn't help him. He still had thoughts and accusations.

Of course something couldn't be right if he trusted Arthur Moor. The only question was, what would happen to him and Isabella?

When he opened the door, Durham, Moor, and Grand poured in. Arthur stopped right in the doorway, Mory followed Durham to the center of the room.

"Campbell," Durham muttered angrily. "I hear there's evidence you're using drugs around here. You're supposed to be so useless about it."

Armin had to try not to spit when he saw Grand. And now that he knew Arthur must have been planning all along, he could hardly contain himself.

He laughed hard. "Let me guess, sir. Moor has the evidence against me, yes? Well, if that's the most trusted source you have..."

Durham waved the mockery aside with an almost regal gesture. "I search the room. Then I can safely chop the thing off. So don't give me a hard time boy Otherwise I'll save you and do it without you."

Armin raised an eyebrow unmoved. "Take it easy, Durham."

Durham shook his head as if disappointed in Armin, stepped behind him and began searching the room.

Armin hadn't taken his eyes off Mory for a moment while Durham searched.

I stood with my back behind Armin and watched the captain of the Elizabeth.

Largely so I didn't think about what Armin would do to get revenge on Arthur...

And he would for sure. My concern was: What would happen to Armin afterwards? The ship rules were different. Very different. If Armin lost his head, perhaps Armin could be left at sea in a boat with no provisions or paddles...

Maybe my imagination was just too colorful. But the fact was that Armin's revenge would certainly have consequences...

Durham walked around Armin and searched the spot by the door. Almost immediately he turned around with a thin chain. A locket dangled from it.

Armin didn't seem surprised, and neither was I.

Durham opened the egg-shaped pendant and found the berries, which looked suspiciously like belladonna.

„Campbell..."

Armin grinned mischievously.

"What do you find funny about that, damn it!?" Durham yelled excitedly, throwing the berries at Armin's feet.

Armin didn't answer and looked at Arthur with a grin. He looked like a child who had been given marzipan.

"So stupid? If you're going to smuggle something into my life, you shouldn't hide it right next to you."

Durham raised a finger menacingly. "That's a very serious accusation!"

"Unjustified?" Armin grinned, raising an eyebrow charmingly. "The incriminating locket is next to the guy who hates me most on the ship."

I grinned mischievously. "I'm shocked."

Mory's pupils had dilated almost imperceptibly. Durham sighed in exasperation and turned his gaze to Arthur.

„Also?"

Arthur and Armin had been bugging him for weeks.

But before he could think of an excuse, Armin continued.

"Isn't that chain owned by Mory Grand? And we had seen Arthur with him more and more?"

Durham slowly examined the chain.

Mory didn't move a muscle. "That's not my necklace."

"Oh no? I'm not seriously the only one who saw him with it."

The captain cocked his head. "I know you have a chain, Grand. Ever since Italy. show her. Then I know that this one belongs to Armin."

Suddenly and without making a sound, Arthur ran away.

Before I fully realized that Arthur was fleeing, Armin was after him. Like he was just waiting for Arthur to run away.

As if he undoubtedly knew that because he had been through this experience many times before.