Many years ago, there lived a king named Farramond the Rose, monikered as such due to his having both a thick shock of dark red hair and a personality that might be described as “seemingly prickly but sweet underneath.” He ruled a small but pleasant kingdom that we shall heretofore refer to as “Roseland.” Although he was a delightful man, we shall hear little more of him, for our narrative concerns his nephew, Adelard, the duke of this fair realm.

Adelard was a quiet intellectual who, at the time in question, was twenty-six years of age. He possessed a slight physique and appeared fragile, but was hardier than he seemed due to countless hours spent wandering the woods surrounding his uncle’s castle; he liked nothing better than to take a book into the forest and to sit reading it underneath the shade of a towering tree, for the only thing he loved more than communing with nature was learning about all the things in the world he did not yet know of. He spoke several languages, had read every work in the castle library, and knew the names of each plant and animal found within his uncle’s lands, so he was considered wise by many and was often sought for counsel by the gentry of the kingdom. He possessed elfin features, green eyes that sparkled whenever he spoke of one of his myriad interests, and a mane of fine reddish-blonde hair that fell to his chest. Despite his being deemed handsome, he did not court anyone and was not rumored to engage in any affairs, and the subjects of Roseland, aware of his predilection for learning, attributed this to his being too involved in his studies to entertain any romantic notions.

The duke had been raised by his uncle, whom he viewed as a paternal figure, since his orphaning at the age of ten. Adelard’s father, an adventurer who had held a lust for travel as well as a thirst for knowledge similar to that of his offspring, had died in a shipwreck when Adelard was seven; he had been journeying to a remote island to study the plant life there when the vessel he had been sailing in struck a mound of jagged rock and swiftly sank to the bottom of the sea.

Adelard’s mother, King Farramond’s younger sister Rosemond, was shattered when she discovered that her husband had been lost, and, though she attempted to move past the tragedy, she was never able to do so. The day after Adelard’s tenth birthday, she told the king and duke that she intended to walk in the forest and would be gone no longer than an hour; however, by the time night had fallen, she had not yet returned. King Farramond had led a party into the woods to find her, and had returned late in the night and, grim-faced, entered Adelard’s room to inform him that his mother had “mysteriously vanished” and that the king would take care of him from that point forward. Despite the king’s assurance that his words were truth, Adelard soon overheard whisperings that his mother had taken her own life in the forest. He had held hope that these murmurings were falsehoods for many years and had ventured into the woods countless times to search for her, but his efforts proved fruitless and, as he grew older, he came to terms with the fact that she had likely left his life for good.

King Farramond had never wed, for he frequently claimed that he was “too set in his ways to ever take a wife,” and he had not sired any children despite his engaging in numerous affairs when younger, so his nephew was therefore the sole party in line for his throne. Adelard, though vaguely aware of this fact, had never really dwelt on it; this was not only because he knew that his uncle was strong and healthy and so consequently believed Farramond would remain king until he reached an advanced age, but also because the idea of ruling the land―particularly the notion of becoming king―made him very uncomfortable. There were many reasons why the duke felt he could never be the king Roseland wanted him to be, some he viewed as obvious to those around him and others known only to himself, and so he tried never to think of the moment when he might need to take the mantle from his uncle and instead persistently prayed for his longevity.

Unfortunately for Adelard, when he reached the age of twenty-six his uncle grew gravely ill, and, although Farramond was able to recover from his sickness, his physician informed him that it had disrupted the rhythm of his heart and that, as a result, he likely had only a decade or so of life left to him. Upon hearing this, the king called his nephew to him and shared the news, then let him know that, although he planned on reigning until his dying day, he also wanted to begin teaching Adelard how to run the kingdom so that he might easily take over ruling were anything to happen to his uncle. He stated that he planned on beginning this transitional process on his sixtieth birthday, which fell at the beginning of the following year.

Adelard, being the devoted nephew that he was, assured his uncle that he would work with him to ensure all went smoothly, but he was filled with dread from the moment their conversation began. After he had left the king and returned to his own quarters, he found himself experiencing increasing despair, for he felt certain that he could never become the king that both his uncle and the citizens of Roseland expected him to be. He ultimately determined that his only recourse would be to make himself briefly disappear; he felt that, were he to do this, his uncle would eventually give him up as lost and would choose another to train in his stead, and then he might return to the kingdom and live out the rest of his days without ever having to take on the blasted crown. He felt some guilt that he would be putting his uncle through the sorrow of losing yet another loved one, albeit only temporarily, but decided that it would be easier to deal with his shame at failing his uncle in this manner as opposed to the shame he would feel upon failing him as king.

The duke knew there were many means of egress from the kingdom, as several carriages departed the town square daily and numerous ships regularly sailed from the main port, but he also knew that he must choose the right transport, for he did not wish to be swiftly recognized and forced to return home by the king’s agents. He spent some time gathering information regarding the wagons and vessels scheduled to leave Roseland within the next fortnight, and he finally came upon the perfect escape: the Scarre expedition.

A rumor had been circulating for many years that there was a land far across the sea, several weeks’ or months’ journey by boat from Roseland, where the dead sometimes found new life and could be seen walking and talking and otherwise behaving as they had whilst alive the first time. A handful of the kingdom’s most seasoned sailors swore that they had been to this land when younger, and that they had found deceased friends and family members there who had welcomed them with open arms.

King Farramond had proclaimed their tales to be hogwash when younger, but had softened toward them with age and had, of late, admitted there might be a kernel of truth to them; Adelard believed that this was due not only to his recent brush with death, but also to his desire to once more see his sister Rosemond. The king had promised a handsome sum to any explorer or mariner willing to undertake the risky trip―with half being given to them before they left and the other half being given upon their returning with solid proof of the land’s existence―and, of course, none had been willing to take him up on the offer barring Captain Scarre, who was said to be the bravest and most skilled ship captain in all of Roseland.

Captain Scarre had been born Syndalle Annora, but was called “Syndalle Scarre” because, in her girlhood, she had received a slash across her face whilst rescuing a lamb from a wolf. The wound had left a scar across her left temple and upper cheek that she viewed as a symbol of courage, and she had turned the mockery that other children directed at her into a badge of honor, adopting their nickname as her chosen moniker. She did this to differentiate herself from her father, Rohan Annora, who had himself been the most accomplished shipmaster in Roseland for many years, so that she might not suffer from comparison; Captain Annora had gone off on an expedition twenty years beforehand that he had never returned from, and his daughter, who had taken over his fleet following his disappearance, had managed to build a reputation and legacy of her own.

Syndalle Scarre had embarked upon a score of the most perilous oceanic expeditions ever conducted in Roseland’s history and had returned from each with untold treasures for the kingdom, so, upon her expression of interest in an attempting the voyage to the “land of the dead,” the king had eagerly furnished her with the sturdiest of vessels and the most effective navigational equipment available. The ship was to set off on the first of June (and it was the twenty-sixth of May when Adelard decided that he would be upon it when it did), but the sailors who had volunteered for the journey were scheduled to meet at a certain tavern on the thirty-first of May in preparation for and discussion of the journey. Adelard figured that the voyage was the exact thing he had been looking for in order to make himself scarce―not only because the journey would span months, but also because, he had to admit, the idea of possibly seeing his mother again thrilled him―so he began to invest all his energies in finding a way of getting into the captain’s crew and onto her ship.

Adelard determined that he would need to assume the identity of one of the crew members in order to board the boat, and so he used all the different means at his disposal to acquire a worn sailor’s linen shirt and jerkin, knee-length breeches, woolen stockings, a woolen cap, and soft leather ankle boots. The last things he needed for his trip were a false beard and mustache the same reddish-blonde color as his hair, as he needed to obscure his relatively recognizable face. As these were quite difficult to find, he had to visit several wig shops and pay quite a handsome sum before obtaining suitable ones; however, when he tried on his new garments and appliances on the morning of the thirty-first, he felt quite satisfied with his appearance and believed he would pass as an experienced seaman.

He packed all of his most treasured and needed belongings into a satchel, then shoved his sailor’s garb in at the top. He afterward informed the palace staff that he would be going on a lengthy forest excursion and that they should not expect his return until evening, and, as it was not unusual for the duke to exit the building carrying a bagful of books or to tarry in the woods until nightfall, the servants were unperturbed by his departure. He felt a twinge of guilt as he passed through the castle gates, for he knew his uncle would be seriously aggrieved by his absence, but he soothed himself with the knowledge that his disappearance was necessary to ensure the best possible outcome for all.

Upon exiting the compound’s walls, Adelard walked into the woods until he reached a point where he would no longer be visible from the palace windows, then he pulled his sailor’s clothes over his regular clothing and applied the beard and mustache to his face using gum arabic. He continued along the path deeper into the woods until he reached another that veered off of it, and he ended up exiting the forest at a point further from the castle and taking that road to the main thoroughfare leading downhill into the city. As he made his way toward his destination, he attempted to walk in a “tough” fashion to avoid being recognized. He felt he was successful in this venture, for on his way to the Raven’s Nest, the tavern where the meeting would be held, few spoke to or even looked at him. The one exception to this trend occurred when a group of maidens passed him giggling, and called out, “Hail, fair seaman!” and this filled him with glee, for it assured him his disguise was convincing.

The gathering at the Raven’s Nest was to be at midday, so Adelard made sure to arrive at the tavern an hour early, for his plan was to survey the sailors coming for the meeting and to choose one he felt was near enough in age and appearance that he might take his place. He figured that he would have to wait a while before the right person came along, but he was in luck, for, after only ten minutes of anticipation, the ideal fellow strolled into view. Although he was not Adelard’s perfect match, he was quite similar in many ways, for he was only a bit taller than him and had long blonde hair tied back with a lace, a blonde mustache, and a blonde beard; he was quite a bit stockier than the duke, but, because Adelard was wearing several layers of clothing, he felt others might not notice the difference.

The man was very much alone and seemed unfamiliar with the area, for he kept peering at the signs on the buildings curiously. He appeared to breathe a sigh of relief when he spotted the one for the tavern and made a beeline toward it, so Adelard rushed forward to intercept him before he could reach the door. “Pardon me, sire, but might I ask you something?”

The stranger turned to stare at him with a mixture of curiosity and wariness. “What do ye want? Yer strange. Ye look like a seaman, but ye talk like none I’ve met.”

Adelard reddened, for he had forgotten that he might need to speak differently to pass as a mariner, and he determined that he would try to learn as many of his new acquaintance’s mannerisms as possible while conversing with him. “Well, erm, you are correct, for I’m not a proper seaman―at least, not yet―but I am hoping to be one. In fact, I’m hoping to voyage with Captain Scarre on the...the...” He blushed once more, for he realized that he had not taken the time to learn the name of the ship he intended to sail on.

“Ye want ta board the Silver Pearl?” the man asked, and Adelard nodded his head vigorously. The sailor looked incredulous. “Ye want ta go on a journey for many moons but ye’ve never been on a ship? Are ye mad?”

“Not mad, merely desperate,” Adelard admitted. “I need to be rid of this place, for to stay will only lead to my suffering and causing others to suffer, so I must obtain passage on the Silver Pearl. The thing is, though, that I don’t presently have a post on the ship...so I was hoping I might persuade you to give me yours.”

“I cannot do that!” the sailor exclaimed. “Even if I wanted ta ’elp ye―an’ I’m not sure I do, mad as ye seem―I cannot afford ta. I’m the eldest o’ ten, an’ I’ve come from afar ta board on the Pearl ta earn for ma family.”

“So you’re not known to the captain and crew?”

“Nah, this be ma first time workin’ for the cap’n. I’ve heard she’s a fair master an’ pays good wages, so I signed on. Ma friend Willy writ me up for it―’e lives ’round ’ere―but then couldn’t work ’imself, so just I’m supposed ta go on board today.”

Adelard could not believe his luck in finding a man both unknown in the area and similar in appearance to himself who was slated to voyage on the Scarre expedition, and he knew that, if he were to have any chance of securing a position on the ship, he needed to convince the fellow to trade places with him. “How much was Captain Scarre going to pay you for your work?”

“Fifty gold pieces. ’Twould feed ma family for months.”

Adelard grinned. “Is that all?”

“What d’you mean, is that all? That all is a lot o’ gold!”

“Yes, yes, I know it is,” said Adelard impatiently, for he saw other sailors arriving and entering the tavern, “but, what if I told you that I shall give you the same amount and you won’t have to go do the work, merely allow me to go in your stead?”

“I’d say ye really are mad, or else a bold liar.”

Adelard had figured that whomever he would obtain a position from would likely need to be bribed to make the exchange, so he had prepared accordingly. He had two bags of coins stuffed into his satchel, one filled with fifty gold pieces and the other with twenty, and they currently made him feel as if he were transporting a boulder, so he was glad to part with the larger sack to ensure his board. He pulled it from his bag and tugged it open, showing the other man its contents, and the fellow’s eyes widened. “Yer serious!”

“Perfectly serious. Give me your post on the Silver Pearl and you shall be able to return to your family right away with enough money to feed them for ages. You shan’t have to risk life or limb to provide for them.”

The sailor considered the exchange for half a second before enthusiastically shaking Adelard’s hand. “Ye’ve a deal! I don’t know who ye are, but I’m thankful ye picked me.”

Adelard held the sack out to him. “Just tell me your name and a bit more about yourself, and it shall be yours.”

“The name’s James Beckett, I’m twenty-five years, I ’ave three brothers an’ six sisters, ma da’s passed so ma mum cares for us all. I live in a town a few days’ walk from ’ere, but no one will know its name on ship so ye’ve no worries. I’ve been sailin’ since I had sixteen years, an’ usually they put me up on top ta scan ’cause my eyes are good.” James Beckett grabbed the bag of gold from his new acquaintance and ran off in the direction he had come from. “Thank ye, kind madman!” he yelled as he disappeared behind a large building.

Adelard felt elation regarding his success, but it was immediately tempered by anxiety, for he worried he might say or do something to give himself away during the meeting. He determined that he would speak as little as possible to avoid doing so, and, fearing he might lose his nerve were he to stand outside waiting any longer, he rushed into the tavern.

Adelard found himself standing amongst a group of twenty or so men upon entering, most of whom were markedly older than himself. He kept his head down and fiddled with the laces on his jerkin as more filtered into the room, so that he might not make eye contact with the others and risk being drawn into conversation. Eventually the room filled with about thirty sailors, and someone said, “Looks like we’re all here” and closed the tavern doors. Adelard decided he should probably lift his head at this juncture so that he might not be perceived as disrespectful, so he did this, then turned his face toward the back of the room, for there was a man stationed there that looked as if he was about to speak.

This gentleman appeared to be substantially older than the rest of the crew, perhaps the same age as Adelard’s uncle, and was clothed in finer garments than the rest of the lot: a full jacket rather than a jerkin, quality breeches, and a jaunty hat with a feather. He was rotund, sported a gray beard and mustache, and had a kind face with smiling eyes that were currently scanning the motley array of characters before him. Adelard figured that he was likely the boatswain, the person in charge of the Pearl’s equipment and crew, and determined that he was probably kind and understanding and that everyone would like him; the duke, who was usually a good judge of character, was generally right about these matters.

The fellow suddenly clapped his hands, and all of the sailors in the room ceased speaking and directed their attention to him. “Hail, my fine lads!” shouted the older man, and his declaration was met with an uproarious cheer. “Quiet down, quiet down,” he told them, grinning, “I know yer all glad to be here, as am I, but we don’t want to be too rowdy, do we?” The men settled down, and the speaker continued, “Most of ye know me, but, for those who don’t, I’m Henry Browne, the bosun o’ this ship. Ye don’t need to ’sire’ me, just call me Henry, for I’ve been friends with most of ye an’ hope to become so with the rest.” Hearing this, Adelard congratulated himself on not only correctly determining the man’s role but also on correctly assuming his nature, and breathed a sigh of relief that his taskmaster would be a fair one.

Henry went on. “Although we’re all happy to be workin’ for Captain Scarre again, for ne’er was there a kinder shipmaster, ye must all know the nature of the journey we’ll be undertakin’, because ye might not be so happy to be aboard once ye do.” The room filled with murmuring, and the boatswain gave the sailors a moment to talk amongst themselves before resuming his speech. “I know yer aware that we shall be journeyin’ to find the ’land of the dead,’ if that be real, but I want ye to know the dangers we face in doin’ so before ye decide whether yer comin’ with us. Folks say they’ve made the trip, ’tis true, but none in a long while, an’ we aren’t sure they’re bein’ honest with us. It may be that none ever have, an’ that may be because o’ the perils.”

“We will be sailin’ for at least many weeks, and possibly for many months. Though we shall be able to go ashore many a time, there are bits o’ sea journey where there shall be no land stops, an’ all sorts o’ fearsome things could be awaitin’ us during those bits as well as on any land we may find in unknown places. I’ve heard rumors o’ sea monsters an’ many other dreadful things, so I want ye to know what yer signin’ up for. If any here be too afraid to journey with us, I give ye permission to leave this place right now an’ return to yer homes.”

Several of the sailors cast uncertain glances at one another, and Adelard found that his heart had suddenly started to beat quite rapidly and that his mouth had gone dry, but none appeared to move toward the door. Someone abruptly yelled, “No matter, Cap’n Scarre will make sure we come to no harm,” and soon the majority of the crowd were agreeing with him and cheering the captain.

The boatswain broke into a broad grin. “I knew ye were a brave lot, but ye’ve outdone yerselves. I know ye’ll make the captain an’ I proud, and I’m so glad to have ye aboard.” Suddenly footsteps sounded from the rear of the tavern, and Henry crowed, “Here she comes, the master herself. All hail Captain Scarre!”

The room filled with thunderous applause as a figure advanced from the back of the room. As Adelard was standing deep in the crowd in hopes of being inconspicuous, he was unable to spot the captain as she approached, but, once she had sauntered up next to Henry, he was able to see her more clearly.

Captain Scarre was the tallest woman he had ever laid eyes on, for she towered over the boatswain, and she had an air of authority about her that he had only ever felt emanating from persons of great import such as his uncle. She wore a fine indigo satin doublet overlaid with a black velvet waistcoat, fitted dark gray linen breeches, a leather sash from which a compass and sword dangled, a leather tri-cornered hat, and soft leather ankle boots. She had long, glossy black hair that was tied back with a leather lace, and her face was almost completely covered by a mask of gray linen; only her eyes, which were a deep shade of brown, were visible above it. Syndalle Scarre was easily the most imposing figure Adelard had ever laid eyes on, and he hoped that, despite her severe appearance, she was as fair and honorable as she was rumored to be.

He felt a bit reassured when the captain began to speak, for her voice conveyed warmth and her eyes sparkled as she addressed the crowd. “Hail, my bold, brave crew!” she exclaimed, and this caused the mob to burst into cheers once more. She waited until they had settled down, then continued, “I am gladdened and honored to have you join me for this journey. I promise that I shall do my best to return you all home intact, as I have done on each past occasion. We shall board our vessel, the Silver Pearl, later this day, and shall leave on our voyage early tomorrow. Boatswain Henry shall provide you with your bunks and help you situate yourselves once you’re on the ship, but I’d like to speak with each of you before we board, so that I might reacquaint myself with former members of my crew and acquaint myself with new ones. Please line up at attention.”

The sailors scrambled to form a line, and Adelard felt his stomach do a somersault, for he had not considered that he might need to converse at length with the captain and worried he might give himself away. He wished he had learned more about James Beckett, for it might have made pretending to be him an easier task, but, resigning himself to the fact that he had blundered in allowing the fellow to so quickly decamp with his gold, he gathered his courage and moved into position next to the other seamen.

He was stood near the end of the line and so was able to watch Captain Scarre as she greeted the others, and she continued to live up to her reputation, for she shook every man’s hand and chatted amiably with each for a few minutes before moving on the next. Sooner than he had expected she stood before him, and, as she grabbed his hand, her brown eyes flashed with curiosity. “I don’t believe I know you, so you must be new to my crew,” she said. “Would you please state your name?”

Praying his performance would be convincing, Adelard grunted, then said, “Cap’n, the name’s James Beckett. Ma friend Willy signed me up but ’e wasn’t able to join us.”

Captain Scarre released Adelard’s hand. “I remember now. Willy Ead’s worked with me a few times. He said he’d be joining us again this time and bringing a friend on, but he ended up with cholera a few weeks past and so isn’t fit to work now. A pity, for Willy’s a fine worker. I expect you’ll be as well?” Adelard nodded enthusiastically, and the captain stared at him thoughtfully. “It’s strange, but for some reason you seem familiar to me despite your not having worked for me before. Is there a chance we’ve met elsewhere?”

Adelard was certain the captain had seen him at some of the functions his uncle had held―she was, after all, a person of import, and hence was likely to have been invited to them―and he felt himself start to panic as the idea that she might already have recognized him crossed his mind. He was fortunately able to calm himself, and replied in a steady voice, “I don’t believe so, Cap’n, for I come from a town afar from here and today is ma first time in this place. I’ve been told I’ve a familiar face, though, so ye might think ye’ve seen me elsewhere? I think ma face seems so familiar ’cause it’s a dull one, really.”

He forced out a chuckle, and Captain Scarre let out a pleasant laugh. “You’re probably right, James Beckett, for I agree I’m unlikely to have seen you before―but I don’t feel that your face is dull, I feel it’s quite interesting, which is likely why it seems familiar. I’m sure it shall become familiar to me, as you shall spend the next few months working on my ship, and perhaps you will return for another voyage and, when that occurs, I shall know exactly where I know you from!" Adelard could hear the smile in her voice, and he felt relieved, for she had not only not recognized him, but also continued to display the affable personality she was rumored to possess.

Captain Scarre quickly moved through the remainder of the crowd, then let the sailors know that she would be returning to her quarters aboard the Silver Pearl to prepare for the journey, but that the ship’s cook, boatswain Henry’s wife Hildeth, would be providing them all with a splendid meal before they boarded the vessel and settled into their bunks for the morrow’s departure. The captain spoke the truth, for Hildeth provided the group with a delightful supper of roast duck, potatoes, leek soup, peas, and brown bread. Adelard did his best to keep his focus on eating so as to avoid conversation with his fellow mariners, but would respond with brief polite answers, so as to not seem rude, whenever an inquiry was made of him. The others eventually figured that he was a retiring fellow, and so largely respected his desire to keep to himself.

After dinner the group took up their packs and followed Henry up the gangplank and on to the Silver Pearl. The boatswain showed each sailor to their bunk, and Adelard was delighted to find that he had been bequeathed a lower bunk situated in the corner of the bunkroom and that he would not have anyone sleeping above him, as “Willy would’ve taken it if not for the cholera.” Although the bunk was not nearly as comfortable as his mattress at home, it was more than suitable given the circumstances; he thanked his lucky stars that he had been fortunate enough to find a sailor to trade places with, that he would have a modicum of privacy and would not need to fear being outed due to the misfortune of Willy Ead, and that he had chosen Captain Scarre’s ship to stow away upon, as it was clear that she cared for her crew and would ensure they were well looked after.

Adelard climbed onto his bed and, once he had settled in, worked to keep his mind off of the uncle he had betrayed and the kingdom he had abandoned and to instead focus on the marvelous adventures he might have whilst he sailed the world on Syndalle Scarre’s Silver Pearl. He was relatively successful in this venture, so, with visions of quests and triumphs dancing about in his head, he soon drifted off to sleep.

Next Chapter: Chapter 2: Discovered