Page 13 of Mardon

“Shhh,” said Emmaline, looking around. “A year ago, I married a Frenchman and my husband has just recently . . . passed away. Now, before I tell you any more, answer me this. Are you really the grandmother of pirates?”

“I most certainly am. I’m grandmathair to Mardon and Aaron, and their brathair, Tristan, who just got married and thankfully gave up piracy. He stayed back in Ravenscar with his new wife.”

“I see.” She started devising a plan in her head. “So . . . do your grandsons steal lots of things?” she asked nonchalantly.

“They’re pirates. What do ye think?” Nairnie clucked her tongue. “For a noblewoman, ye certainly are naïve.”

“Well, what kinds of things do they steal? From other ships, I mean.” She was fishing for information on the painting. She had to know if it was still on the ship without just coming out and asking about it.

“They steal whatever they can. Why?”

“Have they ever stolen anything . . . I don’t know . . . big or odd? For a pirate to have, I mean.”

“I dinna ken that much about their doin’s since I havena been with them long. I suppose they do steal odd things. Some of them are despicable and I wish I were strong enough to lift and throw them overboard.”

“Really?” Emmaline’s eyebrows arched with intrigue. Now she was getting somewhere. She lifted her tankard, trying not to sound too excited. “Like what?”

“Well, that paintin’ in the captain’s quarters for one. It is disgustin’ and appallin’!”

“Painting?” Her heart sped up. This had to be the painting she was looking for. What other painting could have the old woman so worked up? “What kind of painting?” She fished for more information, trying not to rouse suspicion.

“Well, since ye’re really no’ a nun, I suppose I can tell ye.” She leaned over the table and said in a loud whisper, “It’s a paintin’ of a strumpet stark naked, spreadin’ her legs, pushin’ her diddies up into the air and with her mouth opened wide in a lustful moan.”

“What?” gasped Emmaline in shock, pushing back from Nairnie and hitting her head against the wall behind her. She had not expected to hear her say this, especially since it wasn’t true. “Nay! Her legs aren’t spread and she is not a strumpet moaning in pleasure, I assure you.” Emmaline almost spilled the rest of her ale since this upset her so much.

“How do ye ken?” Nairnie did that thing again with one squinted eye and cocked her head.

“Well, I don’t know. I – I mean, I just cannot believe any woman, strumpet or not, would pose like that for a painting. Mayhap you are mistaken.”

“Well, mayhap. I guess I’ll have to take another look to find out for sure.”

“Who – who is it? In the painting, I mean. The woman. Who is she?”

“I dinna ken.”

“Do the men know her?” She held her breath, waiting for the old woman’s answer.

“I’m no’ sure, but neither do they care. It is disgustin’ the way they sneak in there to look at the nude woman and then they grab themselves and –”

“Enough.” Emmaline’s hand shot up in the air and her head lowered. She suddenly felt as if she were going to retch. “I don’t need to hear anything more, thank you.” She felt sickened at the thought of every one of the pirates staring at her naked body day after day. Even worse, they were pleasuring themselves at her expense. This was even worse than she’d thought.

She felt so ashamed at what she had done. The only thing that was going to make this feeling go away was if she could get ahold of that painting and take it to the king to destroy it and fix her sullied reputation. Then, in time, the memory of the painting would hopefully fade from everyone’s minds and people would forget that it even existed at all. Yes, that was exactly what she needed to do. However, in order to do that, she had to get onto that ship.

“Nairnie, can I see you for a moment?” Mardon was back at the table and, this time, his brother, Aaron, was with him.

“There is no treasure here,” stated the blond man. “We’ve looked everywhere.”

“Aaron, hold your tongue.” Mardon’s eyes flashed over to Emmaline.

“Treasure?” asked Emmaline. “Is there a treasure in this tavern that you are hoping to find?”

“Never mind,” snapped Mardon. “It’s none of your concern, Sister.”

“What is a nun doing sitting with Grandmother?” asked Aaron in surprise. His mouth turned up into a mischievous grin.

“Let’s go,” grunted Mardon, sounding perturbed.

“I dinna understand it,” said Nairnie, pulling a piece of parchment out of her bodice. It made Emmaline wonder what else the woman had stored down there. Nairnie opened up the parchment and stared at it. “I was sure this part of the clue meant that the treasure was here in Great Yarmouth at the Fish Head Inn.”