Page 5 of Mardon

“Aye, Sister,” answered the man. “The Fish Head Inn is a favorite place of fishermen, pirates, and even whores.”

“Have you ever heard of a pirate ship called the Falcon?” she asked him, scanning the water, looking for tall ships.

“Aye, but I’m surprised ye know of it. I mean, bein’ a nun and all, I thought ye only kent about prayers and holy things.”

“You’d be surprised,” she mumbled under her breath, feeling hot and wanting to rip off the wimple and let her hair blow free in the breeze. How could the nuns endure this attire day after day? “Can you tell me anything at all about the Falcon or its crew?”

The man shrugged. “I don’t know much since me and the rest of the crew go out of our way to avoid pirates.” He cocked his head and squinted at her in the bright sun. “Sister, forgive me for sayin’ but ye almost sound like ye’re actually lookin’ for pirates instead of tryin’ to avoid them. Is this true?”

“Nay, don’t be silly.” She fussed with her wimple and looked in the other direction. “Of course not. I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to run into them while I’m here.”

“Sadly, I can’t guarantee that. I hear the Fish Head Inn is where the crew of the Falcon gets a lot of supplies. They stop here often. Plus, I also hear they like the whores at the tavern and that’s why they keep comin’ back.”

“Oh,” she said, not sure how to respond to that.

“Sister, my suggestion to ye is that ye keep on walkin’ further up the beach and don’t go anywhere near the Fish Head Inn. There is a small church within walkin’ distance, up on the hill, where I’m sure ye’d feel more comfortable. Pirates don’t usually raid churches, so ye should be safe there.”

“Don’t bet on it,” she mumbled under her breath, closing her eyes and raising her face to the sun. She loved the outdoors, fresh air, and sunshine. Too bad being a noblewoman meant her skin was supposed to be pale and that she should never come in contact with the sun. While the sun on her face felt inviting, dressed in her disguise as a nun, she still felt trapped. She’d left one prison for another, and all she longed for was to be free.

“What did ye say, Sister?” asked the man.

Her eyes sprang open, and she lowered her head. “I said . . . thank you.” With a nod, Emmaline waved her hand in the air in the sign of a cross like she’d seen the other nuns do. “Bless you.” She hoped to hell she wouldn’t be struck down by lightning for pretending to be a nun when all the men in France considered her as nothing more than a whore.

It was crucial to keep anyone from knowing who she really was. If that secret got out, it could ruin her chances of succeeding with the mission she was on to clear her name.

When she’d entered the convent, they’d made her give up all her possessions and, sadly, she didn’t even have a penny to her name right now. Her family had disowned her, and unless she could rid herself of her wretched reputation, she was never going to be any nobleman’s wife again. Right now, Emmaline had nothing to offer.

Hopefully, this disguise would at least get her a meal for free before she starved to death. Depending on handouts was not to her liking. It was something she’d never had to do in her life. Her father was a wealthy man, and her late husband had more than his share of money. From riches to rags, it didn’t seem like her life could get any worse. However, being a nun, in her opinion, was the worst thing that could ever happen to her. Thankfully, she’d managed to sneak away before she had to take her final vows.

At least for now, this wimple and gown would keep her safe from being accosted by randy men. It would also guard against her dark secret until she was able to destroy the evidence that she’d been anything but pure and proper.

Looking out to sea, she shaded her eyes from the sun, searching for other ships – preferably ones with black sails. Pirate ships, that is. All she had to do now was wait for pirates to arrive and hope she’d find the same ones who boarded and raided her husband’s ship.

Hurrying down the dock, she followed the men into the Fish Head Inn. As soon as she took one step inside the door, she reeled back, covering her nose with her hand. The stench inside was a combination of fish, sweat, alcohol and . . . sex! She knew it well since Jean Philippe had forced her to go to taverns with him, showing her off as some sort of trophy wife. She hated this place already.

It took a moment for her eyes to get accustomed to the dimly lit room. Two men from behind pushed her inside, impatiently wanting to enter.

“Hold up,” said the bouncer at the door, holding out his grubby palm. “That’ll be a half-pence for each of ye to enter.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, but I have no money,” she told him, her heart racing, hoping not to be thrown out.

“She’s a nun, ye fool,” spat one of the men behind her who had been part of the crew of the fishing ship that gave her a ride up the channel.

“Umph,” snorted the filthy man, eyeing her up and down. “Then it’ll be a whole pence to come inside since we don’t serve the likes of ye, Sister.”

“I’ll pay for her,” said the fisherman, handing the man the money.

The man at the door bounced the coins on a piece of wood to make sure they were real. Then with a grunt, he nodded his head. “All right, go on inside and get somethin’ to eat. But don’t tarry if ye know what’s good for ye.”

“Thank you, and God bless you,” she said, playing up her new role. Her hand went to the rosary hanging around her neck – the only thing considered jewelry that she wore. Pirates had stolen her wedding ring when they’d raided her late husband’s ship. Not that she missed being married to Jean Philippe, but she had liked the beautiful ring.

“Wait a second, Sister,” growled the man at the door before she could walk away. “Haven’t I seen ye somewhere before?” He bent over, trying to see her face in the darkened room. “Ye look familiar.”

“I – I do?” Emmaline purposely kept her head low, looking at the crucifix that she rubbed between her fingers in worry. “No, I don’t believe we’ve ever met. I’ve never been to Great Yarmouth before.” She turned away from him.

“Are ye sure?” asked the man, making her nervous. “Let me see yer face.”

She shyly looked back over her shoulder, trying not to make eye contact with the man. She thought her disguise would serve her well, but now she realized it was probably a mistake coming here. After all, pirates tended to brag, and she wasn’t sure how many of the men here might have actually seen the evidence of her dark past.